


To All The Boys I've Loved Before

by plvtoe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before Fusion, Keith as Peter, Klance Month 2018, Lance as Lara Jean, M/M, Slow Burn, To All The Boys I've Loved Before AU, dont let the character placements keep you from reading, i give an explanation in authors note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 02:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15985511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plvtoe/pseuds/plvtoe
Summary: “Do you want me to drive you home?”He pauses halfway to grabbing his bag. Keith eyes him in the bent position. Lance grunts as he finally moves to place it over his shoulders. “I can handle myself.”“Oh, I know that. I just thought it’d be annoying to bike home with how you’re limping.”Lance narrows his eyes. His ankle still felt a little swollen from the fall earlier. “Yeah. I rolled off a roof.”





	To All The Boys I've Loved Before

**Author's Note:**

> "omg pluto why didn't you have keith as lara jean—"  
> -just because Keith is highly viewed as Korean and so is Lara Jean doesn't mean he is set in that placement  
> -Lance is hopeless romantic, like Lara Jean  
> -Keith seems more athletic like Peter  
> -Lara Jean has a big family! So does Lance. All Keith has unfortunately is Shiro and probably Adam. I felt this fit better.  
> -Their personalities are still in their characters! I simply chose who wrote the letters and who received them.  
> -Also, I find the theory of how their personalities would be if A: shiro came into keith's life way earlier and taught him its ok to be emotional and B: lance lost his dad early in life, who was a big part of his entire family (changing how he grows up/who he becomes)
> 
> This is written for Klance Month 2018. Enjoy!

_The forbidden kiss._

_We knew it was wrong; that he was betrothed to my sister. But if this isn’t what he wants, then why did he come to the field of desire?_

_It was fated. That we should meet like this—_

 

Lance’s daydreaming is interrupted by a pillow flying towards his face. His book flies off the bed, landing face-down on the plush carpet.

“Hey!” he yelps, throwing the pillow back in the direction it came from. He groans, looking around the room for the perpetrator. The entire room is painted a bright white. When they had moved into the house, his father compared it to an asylum. His closet door is covered in photos with friends. The photographs are printed and cut out from printer paper, instead of photo paper, because _hey, he’s an unemployed teenager and that shit’s expensive, give him a break._ On the ceiling, faded glow-in-the-dark stars canvas the drywall. Posters of star charts, space films, and NASA logos align the walls. Along his desk, baskets are filled with both clean and dirty laundry. Next to it, two bookshelves are crammed full of novels alike to the one he was reading before being rudely interrupted.

Lance darts his eyes to the doorway. Two children stare back. The tallest of the two, Sylvio, holds the bright, yellow pillow against his chest. The ten year-old is tall and gangly for his age. He’s a spitting image of Lance when he was Sylvio’s age; their relation is obvious. He recently lost his second-to-last tooth, the left canine on his bottom set of teeth, of which he displays proudly to every new stranger he meets. His brown skin compliments his dark, unruly hair. Large brown eyes glance to his little sister, waiting for her to speak.

Nadia is two years younger than her brother, but has no problem keeping up with his long legs. She has lighter skin than Sylvio, inherited from Lance’s brother. This morning, Veronica must have tied Nadia’s hair into pigtails. Her knees and legs are covered in scrapes and bruises, decorated with colorful band-aids throughout. Hazel eyes glare at her uncle.

“You said you would hang out with us,” Nadia whines.

Lance blinks. He _did_ promise them that. But he was just getting to the good part…

“Okay, let me finish this chapter, and then we’ll go play,” he negotiates. The two seem sated with this conclusion. Lance leans down to the floor, grabbing _The Forbidden Kiss_ to set it on his comforter. Hey, it was a romance told from the point-of-view of a girl, but Lance is versatile. Number one perk of bisexuality. Including not having to change song lyric pronouns, more options in dating, bigger chances of someone being into you that you could like back, _well, not that it applies to Lance because no one’s_ ever _been seriously into him past a fling and he’s never dated—_

His thoughts are cut off when the crashing of pans and kitchen appliances echo from the first floor. Veronica spins into the doorway, eyebrows raised.

“Should we go down and help her?” Lance asks. Gina McClain is usually not this jittery. Only when there are guests coming, because their house _must_ be spotless and perfect if there’s company. Even if it’s just Ryan, Veronica’s boyfriend of two long years and Lance’s friend for even more.

“You know she wants to do it herself, but please come help me set the table,” Veronica beckons. She turns her gaze down to Nadia and Sylvio. “C’mon, you two, you’re helping put the silverware in place.”

Even those the two children don’t live in the _OG McClain Household,_ as Luis likes to call it, they’re here all the time anyways. Their father, Marco, is constantly at work for two weeks out of the month due to being a flight attendant. Their mother, Alina, is a resident surgeon. Both careers require strange hours, so the combination results in the children spending many mornings and nights at their abuela’s house.

Lance grunts and gets off the bed, leaving his bedroom with a pitiful look towards his 99 cent romance novel.

As they come downstairs, Ryan enters through the front door. He enters as if it’s his own house, which, honestly, is fair. Before he started dating Veronica, he’d been Lance’s best friend since age nine. He greets Sylvio and Nadia as they jump up on him, asking Sylvio how his dance is going and if Nadia still wants to join a soccer team.

He looks nice today. Really nice. He’s not wearing anything special, just a t-shirt and shorts. His hair doesn’t look any different from usual, either.

Oh, maybe it’s the fact that Lance had a crush on him from the fourth grade to freshman year.

It wasn’t _intentional_ and it stopped just after him and Ronnie started dating. But it’s not a crime to admit someone’s attractive, right?

Ryan kisses his girlfriend on the cheek, telling her hello. Veronica averts her eyes to the ground, unsmiling. Huh. _That’s_ unusual. Sometimes he has to throw pillows at the two to keep them decent.

“I’m not too late, am I? I was, uh,” he pauses, pulling his shoes off to set them on the cubby. “Trying to meditate, but I ended up falling asleep. Smells good, Gina,” he greets Lance’s mother in his soft voice. She’s pulling a rice pot out of the stove as they speak. His mother coos over Ryan’s politeness while he goes to high five Lance, who’s still standing on the last step of the staircase.

Dinner is comfortable and casual. Sylvio and Nadia sit on either side of Lance. Ryan and Veronica sit across from them. His mother sits at the end of the table; the other end is vacant, originally filled by their other family members. Rachel is already at her private academy for the arts in Denver right now. She left a week ago. Luis is on a gap year before going for his graduate degree. Last Lance heard, he was in Beijing with friends. Marco still lives nearby when he isn’t flying around the world. Lance’s dad is, well…

Veronica mutters something about getting lemonade for the kids. She gets up from her seat and walks into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe we’re not going to see her until Thanksgiving,” Lance mutters, digging into his chicken with his fork.

“Actually, it’s going to be Christmas, _mijo_ _,_ because London is too far to come back for just Thanksgiving,” his mother corrects. Nadia whines.

“What?” Sylvio mutters. His sister tugs on Lance’s sleeve, waiting for her tio to explain. Sylvio leans over him to whisper loudly. “That means we won’t see Veronica for six months!”

“Three and a half months, buddy,” Lance corrects the ten year-old’s math.

“Let’s look on the bright side,” Gina smiles. “Veronica won’t be taking the car every day, so you can practice your driving. You’re already seventeen, Lance.”

“But I’m a year ahead of everyone because of the birthday cut off, so that hardly counts,” Lance grumbles. Ryan had only been born four months before him, and he’s a senior.

“Tia Rachel told us we’d die if we got in a car with Lance,” Nadia comments. Lance pales and Ryan snickers into his drink. His sister was older by _thirteen months,_ and _this_ is the sibling love he receives?

“I’m not that bad at driving!” he insists. He passed the test and got his license, so there’s no problem. It’s not like everyone’s a natural driver. And it’s not like Lance is bad at everything. He just dislikes parking, stopping, accelerating, driving next to other cars, driving on highways…

“If you’re in that tight of a pinch, I can give you guys a ride,” Ryan offers. “The elementary is on our way to school, and I’m right next door. Just because Veronica’s leaving doesn’t mean I am.” Lance smiles and cups his jaw in his hand. His staring is interrupted when Veronica reenters the room, lemonade pitcher in hand.

“What’d I miss?” She asks, pouring the juice into Nadia and Sylvio’s cups.

“We were talking about what a bad driver tio is,” the youngest informs her. Lance’s sister snorts. He groans and covers his face in his hands.

“Yeah, we were, but we were also talking about airplanes,” Ryan continues. Lance looks at him through his fingers. They narrow when he reaches into his back pocket. “Which, speaking of, I have a surprise for you.” He pulls out a white piece of paper, folded into thirds. Veronica takes it with a hum. She’s silent when she opens the sheet. “Since you won’t come home for Thanksgiving, I thought I’d bring home to you,” her boyfriend grins. Veronica’s eyes bulge. Lance feels uneasy. “It’s a plane ticket, I’m coming to London.

Their mom grins. “Oh, there’s our sweet Ryan!” she coos, cutting into her chicken. Veronica, however, looks frazzled. Lance switches his eyes between the two. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut it with a knife. Ryan’s smile slowly falls.

“You...you already paid for this?”

Ryan’s eyebrows draw together. Oh no. “I mean, yeah. I had a Google alert set for flights as soon as you decided you wanted to go there. Why?”

His sister bites her lip. “Can we talk outside?”

 

Lance spends the rest of the night reading a couple more chapters of _The Forbidden Kiss_ and ignoring the arguing in his driveway. Well, he tries to ignore it. After about fifteen minutes, he looks out to see the two standing next to the street. Ryan looks distressed, running fingers through his hair while pacing. Lance has never seen him so nervous. When he sees Veronica turn away from Ryan, Lance quickly darts away from the curtain. He sits on his bed and picks up the book, acting as if he hasn’t moved in the first place.

Veronica walks into the room two minutes later and flops onto Lance’s bed. Her cheek is squished against the navy comforter, glasses askew.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks hesitantly.

“Not really. I just broke up with Ryan,” her voice is muffled in the fabric.

Lance whips his head around to her. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Dad always told us never to go to college with a boyfriend. If they’re that important, you’ll find them when you come home. That’s what happened with him and mom, anyway.”

All of the memories of tagging along on dates, hanging out with them, and having fun as a trio dissolves in Lance’s eyes. He rests a hand on Veronica’s shoulder. She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

When Lance was younger, around twelve, his massive crush on Ryan peaked when he realized it was, in fact, _a crush._ It was before he figured out liking boys is okay too, so he constantly tormented himself about it. He started to avoid Ryan whenever he came over and turned down possible hangouts. Lance guesses that’s when Ryan started hanging out with Veronica more, and eventually grew feelings for her. They started dating, and Lance realized he loved them both too much to get in their way.

So he wrote a letter.

It was just for Lance to understand how he was feeling. If he puts it all out on paper, by the end of it the affection doesn’t feel so intense. Instead, it’s muted until it finally goes away fully a few months later. Sometimes, it goes away quicker. Depends on how fast Lance realizes how annoying the people he’s had crushes on are.

But for Ryan, it didn’t really fully go away months later. Lance would never try to go for him, but he still had a soft place in his heart reserved only for the other.

Ryan wasn’t the only letter.

On the top shelf in his closet, there lays a small duffle bag. It was his father’s. The name _MCCLAIN_ is embroidered under the U.S. Air Force emblem. Inside, there are five letters. They’re Lance’s most secret possessions. To them, each address and name is written carefully: Nyma from camp, Keith from seventh grade, Hunk from homecoming, Allura from Model UN, and Ryan.

Lance writes a letter when he has a crush so intense he doesn’t know what else to do. Rereading the letters reminds him of how powerful his emotions can be, all-consuming. Luis would say he’s being dramatic, but isn’t drama fun, sometimes?

Two days later Lance wakes up early to take his sister to the airport. His mom is driving, with Veronica who’s passed out in the back seat. Lance leans his head against the window. It’s too nice of a day for something as dreary as this.

His mom takes forever to say goodbye. She holds Veronica tightly while weeping. Veronica looks at Lance over their mom’s shoulder with a grimace. Although a year-long internship in London sounds amazing, it probably still hurts to be the reason why your mom is crying into your shoulder.

When she finally pulls away, Veronica immediately pulls her youngest brother into a hug.

“Who am I gonna sit with at lunch?” Lance grumbles. He has friends, obviously, plenty of them, but they were all assigned to different lunch periods except for Pidge.

“Sounds like you’ll have to make new friends,” she teases. Lance flicks her ear.

“Promise you won’t forget about me while you’re drinking tea and eating fish and chips?”

“Lance, I hate fish. Definitely not.”

He snorts into his sister’s shoulder.

“I gotta go,” she states. Her plane will arrive in two hours, but she still needs to get through the long line of security.

“Yeah, alright,” Lance says. He pulls away. Veronica smiles, pushing his hair off his forehead before bending down to pick up her bags. She heaves her duffle bag over her shoulder, holding two suitcases on the ground.

Veronica half-smiles. “Okay.” Lance and their mother hug her once more before she turns to go to security. Before she turns the corner, Lance speaks.  
  
“Do you think she’s gonna look back?” he asks.

His mom wipes her wet cheeks, wrapping an arm around Lance’s waist. “No. That’s not Veronica.”

And she doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

The first day of school is chaotic. Lance almost crashes into some mom’s minivan while dropping off Sylvio and Nadia, and he narrowly avoids tripping straight into the janitor’s mop bucket two minutes after entering the school building. The new freshman class must be huge. The hallways are so packed with students Lance worries it’s a fire hazard. It takes about fifteen minutes to get to his locker on the second floor. By the time he puts his textbooks in, he only has about ten minutes before first bell.

Lance groans, shoving the last textbook in before slamming it shut. The hallways up here are less crowded, so he finds it easier to walk through the crowds. He sees Ryan at his locker, who gives Lance a half-hearted smile before looking back down. Lance frowns, but keeps going. He still needs to find Pidge, so he doesn’t have time to deal with Ryan’s awkwardness.

Lance is cutting around the corner in the history hallway when he walks straight into someone’s shoulder.

“Hey!”

An apology is half on Lance’s tongue when he turns to see who he walked into. Of course.

Rolo stands over him with a scowl on his face. He must’ve bleached his hair over the summer, because the dreads are now a stark white against his skin. He’s also adorning a couple of new scars along his arms, probably from football. A freshly-inked tattoo of a crow is on his bicep.

Lance hums. Someone changed a bit over the summer. “Sorry Rolo, I wasn’t paying attention,” he admits.

Rolo must realize who ran into him, because he scowls. “Oh, it’s you.”

It’s not like Rolo’s being an asshole to a completely random person. To be honest, he’s a quite nice guy if he’s cool with you. It’s not like he goes around kicking puppies and taking money from homeless people’s donation jars on the weekends. He’s some position on the football team that Lance never bothered to remember, and he’s pretty sure he might play hockey too.

In fact, once upon a time, Rolo and Lance were friends. Best friends. At least until eighth grade. Lance isn’t sure what happened, but Rolo decided one summer to start hating Lance’s guts. He’s been like that since.

“Yeah...sorry,” Lance repeats, unsure of what to say. They could’ve just continued on their merry way after Lance apologized, but Rolo still stands there. He eyes Lance up and down, stopping at his jacket.

Rolo narrows his eyes. “Cute jacket,” he mocks. He holds a flat hand up against his forehead in salute. “Thank you for your service,” he salutes, referring to the Air Force emblem on the chest pocket.

Lance frowns, looking down at the patches. Aside from the emblem, there’s a United States flag and an outdated NASA patch. He tilts his chin back up to Rolo, who easily stands half a foot taller than him. “It was my dad’s. Vintage, yeah?”

Rolo scowls and opens his mouth but is interrupted when a hand claps down on Lance’s shoulder. He turns to see Pidge, in her 5’0.5” glory.

“Rolo, if I find out you’re bothering Lance here about his dad’s jacket, I’ll kick your ass into next year. The McClain family works their asses off to earn what they have while everything you own is from _daddy’s_ embezzlement.” Even with her short stature, the freshman raises her chin high to glare at Rolo.

The guy in question snarls. “You seem to forget that he’s your bloodline, too. Learn to be grateful for it.”

Pidge laughs. “Please, my side of the family disowned you guys years ago. We won’t be involved when they find enough proof to take your parents to court, _cuz._ ”

Lance finds it hard not to snicker. He bites his cheek, keeping a smile at bay. Rolo and Pidge are cousins, but their families separated around eight years ago when Rolo’s parents began embezzling from the family’s law firm. There’s still ongoing investigation, apparently.

Pidge is the exact opposite of Rolo, both physically and personality-wise. She has short ginger hair that hangs around her shoulders. The chopped ends are the remnants of her rebellious phase in middle school when she cut almost all of her hair off. Lance still reminds her of it to her dismay. Even in the hot weather, she wears a sweatshirt overtop jean shorts. Large glasses sit on her nose. Originally, she didn’t even need them. But when her brother went off to college three years ago, she started wearing his old glasses to feel closer to him. Eventually, that fucked up her eyes so much she can’t see without them. Lance also doesn’t let her live that down.

Rolo looks like he’s going to spit something back until a pale hand grabs his shoulder. “Rolo,” someone beckons. Lance averts his eyes to them.

Keith Kogane is around the same height as Lance, maybe a bit taller. This still means that Rolo towers over the two. However, a single call has Rolo stopping and turning to look at the other.

A recent trend Lance finds is that the lacrosse and hockey boys are all growing their hair out. This is quite unfortunate, first because Lance doubts any of them have ever heard of a hairbrush except for _maybe_ Keith, and secondly because it’s giving them too much power over the Cuban. Keith is a prime example of that. His dark hair is tied into a short ponytail off of his neck. That seems to be the only thing he’s doing to keep himself cool though, because his entire outfit is dark colored except for the red flannel tied around his waist.

“We’re going to be late for first period,” Keith continues. “It’s across the school, remember?”

The thing is, Rolo and Keith try to _act_ like they’re friends, but pretty much everyone in the entire school knows they’re just fuckbuddies and that’s about it. They’re complete opposites. They’re both on the hockey team during the winter athletic season, but that’s where the similarities end. Pidge speculates that Keith has feelings for Rolo. Lance finds that theory ludacris. She also theorizes that Rolo, under several meters of thick ice, has a soft spot in his heart for the Korean.

Oh, remember how one of the letters Lance wrote was addressed to Keith from seventh grade?  
That’s this Keith. _Rolo’s_ Keith.

It all started during a party some kid hosted to celebrate the end of seventh grade. It was the first day of the summer, and Lance is pretty sure he was only invited because he was Rolo’s best friend.

At some point, someone brought out an empty A&W root beer bottle. Spin The Bottle was almost immediately started afterwards.

It was fun, sure, for seventh graders, until Lance’s spin landed on Keith.

Lance froze. Keith smiled across the circle. Lance glanced to Rolo, who looked pissed. “I can spin it again,” he suggested frantically. Rolo shook his head, wide eyed.

Keith shrugged. “You can’t cheat the bottle,” he reasoned. Without another thought, he leaned across the circle, hesitating just before Lance’s lips. Lance took his eyes off of his best friend, smiled, and leaned forward.

The kiss lasted a total of two seconds, probably, but Lance and Keith were then known as total badasses for kissing another boy without backing out on it. Or at least until high school came along and people realized they liked boys anyway. Well, assumed. Keith was slightly more obvious about it then Lance was.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rolo states, snapping Lance out of his daydreaming. “It’s the first day, we’ll just say we were lost.”

“I don’t think that works when we’re both upperclassmen.”

The taller shrugs. He turns back to Lance. “So I was just complimenting Lance on his _totally vintage_ jacket.”

Keith eyes Lance’s jacket with curiosity more than maliciosity. Dark eyes meet Lance’s for just a moment before flitting back down.

“C’mon, I see someone we need to go say hi to,” Rolo turns away, seemingly done with the conversation. Keith hesitates.

“Sorry about him,” he apologizes. Pidge raises an eyebrow. “He’s just, uh…”

“A jerk?” Lance asks at the same time Pidge finishes, “an asshole?”

Keith looks like he’s about to swallow his tongue. “Yeah. Sorry,” he nods and goes after Rolo. Further down the hallway, the Korean looks over his shoulder with an almost guilty expression lining his features before turning back.

Lance sighs. His best friend turns to him. “Alright, let’s go. If we’re late Dr. Santos will definitely skin us alive.”

 

At lunch Lance has a problem. He’s circled the entire perimeter of the cafeteria, but still can’t find Pidge. Anywhere. He’s rung her cell several times, but she still hasn’t shown up. He finds himself wandering the bleachers outside, wondering if she’s hanging out under them. It turns out not. Instead, he finds Ryan sitting.

When Lance goes up the metal stairs, Ryan’s head turns up to the echoing footsteps.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Is this seat taken?” Lance gestures to the metal row. He shakes his head and moves his bag for the brunet to sit.

There’s less than five seconds of silence before Ryan rubs his eyes and blinks up at the blue sky. “I—” he stops for a moment to piece together his words. “I gotta ask...did she...tell you she was gonna do it? Since you two tell each other everything?”

Lance doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about. He shakes his head. “She didn’t tell me about this.”

Ryan drops his head and grimaces. He raises his dark eyes to glance at Lance. “We’re still cool, right? Y’know, we can still talk...and I don’t know, kick it?”

Lance cringes and orders, “Don’t say kick it,” but nods and tells him they’re cool. Ryan smiles and opens his book again, seeming content. Lance pulls his book bag towards himself, opening the back up to get to his lunch. “Want a strawberry?” he asks, knowing Ryan will already say yes. The guy’s adored strawberries since middle school.

Okay, Lance can understand how one would think this whole situation is weird. But they’re cool! No matter what feelings he had left for Ryan, Lance is absolutely positive he’d never do that to Veronica.

During ninth period he gets a text from Marco’s wife asking if Lance can take the kids home with him. The text actually goes on longer than that, explaining that some lady had surgical complications or something but Lance skims it. It’s not like it’s a huge hassle to watch Sylvio and Nadia for a couple hours. He sends off a quick _sure_ before going back to paying attention to trig.

When the final bell rings, Lance decides to walk to the elementary school. It’s only two blocks down the street, and honestly he’s afraid some sophomore will kill him while driving. Although, he can’t really complain, considering he’s only drove three times since he passed his driver’s test.

It’s only thirty minutes later that he has the kids and is walking back to the parking lot. Most of the people have cleared out, but there’s still about thirty cars in the lot. He’s in the middle of buckling Nadia in when he asks her, “wait, don’t you still need a car seat?”

She gasps. “Tio! I’m eight!”

Lance throws a hand up, using the other to buckle her in. “How should I know what the maximum age for car seats are?”

Sylvio twists around from the front seat. “Lance, you’re supposed to know everything!”

“I never said that,” Lance grumbles, closing the back door and hopping in the driver’s seat. He checks that everyone has their seat belts on before switching out of park. He’s backed up for a total of two seconds before he hears a _woah, woah, woah_ and a light thump against the rear window.

Lance slams on his brakes and jerks forward. He looks up to his rear mirror in dread to see a pale hand still on the back window. They stand up, but Lance can only see their torso from the short car. Nadia and Sylvio start laughing as the person walks around the car. They tap the glass.

Lance groans, shifting back into park. When he goes to roll down the window, he meets eyes with Keith Kogane. The Korean leans down onto the window, an annoyed smile plastered on his face. Lance’s heart thumps against his ribcage.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How you doing?”

“Good,” Lance chokes out.  
  
“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Keith’s expression drops into an emotion Lance can only describe as _pissed off._ “You’re a terrible driver.”

Sylvio laughs again as Lance sinks into his seat in shame.

“You know people usually check behind them before they reverse, y’know, to avoid killing others? It’s a thing we do.” Keith leans further into the car.

“Yeah, well, I’m just not completely comfortable with using my mirrors yet, so,” Lance answers, ignoring Keith’s mutter of _how the hell did you pass your driving test, then?_

Lance purposely stares straight ahead. He sees Keith smirk in his peripheral vision.

“So do you think you’ll be able to make it out of the lot, or…”

“We’re fine!” Lance squeaks, more to convince himself than Keith. “I got it. Totally cool. So you should just go, seriously,” the last part is mumbled, but Keith probably hears it considering the proceeding deep chuckle that erupts from his chest.

“Sure, whatever you say, McClain.” He crosses his arms when Lance finally looks at him. Keith nods to Sylvio in the passenger seat. “Hey, you’re in charge.”

He finally walks away a few seconds later after Lance’s insistence. The Cuban rolls up the windows shamefully. Sylvio seems too preoccupied with the excitement that _he’s_ in charge, but Nadia isn’t. The little devil grins while leaning in from the back seat.

“Who was that, Lancey Lance?” she coos.

Lance groans, leaning his forehead against the wheel. “That was Keith Kogane.”

The trio sits in silence for a moment before Sylvio looks over at Lance. “What are we waiting for?”

“We’re waiting for the rest of the cars to leave,” Lance states, not risking hitting someone again. His nephew groans while Nadia sighs from the back.

“If you had a girlfriend,” _or boyfriend,_ Sylvio adds, “she could drive us everywhere and we wouldn’t almost die every time you get in a car,” Nadia states.

Lance lifts his head from the steering wheel to roll his eyes. “If getting a girlfriend or boyfriend is what it takes, you two are stuck with me.”

“What about the boy you almost just killed?”

He almost laughs. “He’s dating Rolo, I’m pretty sure.”

“So?” Sylvio questions. His uncle scoffs, shaking his head.

They finally get home at quarter til’ four. Lance took all of the backroads to get home, in fear of driving across the state route intersection. Lance pushes open the door. Sylvio and Nadia run past his legs to get in, basking in the AC.

“What do you guys want for snacks?” he calls as they run upstairs.

“Candy!” Nadia screams back.

Lance drops his book bag onto the armchair in the living room. “Carrots and celery it is!”

The groans of his niece and nephew echo from the second floor. Lance smiles as he walks into the kitchen. His mom isn’t home. A glance at his texts tells Lance that she’s working late to catch up on work.

As the brunet opens the fridge in search of vegetables, his mind flashes back to Keith. He grimaces. He almost hit the dude, and the biggest reaction he could get out of the guy was annoyance. He knew the athlete was known for his temper, so why’d he act so calm around Lance? Was he really not worth even a little bit more emotion?

By the time Lance finishes making the snacks, he’s over-thought himself into being annoyed. He doesn’t notice the mischievous looks on the kids’ faces.

 

* * *

 

 

The following week consists of Lance and Pidge dying in Phys Ed. A heat wave just hit California. Their gym teacher decides that it’s a perfect time to do laps for warm up on the track. This results in multiple students passing out from dehydration and even more missing school due to heat exhaustion. It sucks. Pidge absolutely hates running, which she repeats about every five minutes during it. Lance doesn’t mind it as much as her, but it’s not the same as swimming. In swimming, you don’t notice the fact that you’re sweating buckets.

It’s Friday during sixth period when Keith finds him running. It seems even hotter than yesterday, and Lance can feel the sweat already plastering to his forehead. It’ll only take a couple of hours for the clogged pores to break out. Luckily, he brought face wipes for this exact reason.

“Lance!”

Said person whips their head up to see Keith jogging up to him. He’s wearing a black v-neck and dark jeans but doesn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. Lance decides he hates him.

“Uh, hi?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow at that. They’ve already ran about eight laps, so it’s gotten to the point where she doesn’t have the breath to complain. For the past couple minutes she’s been silent until now.

“Hey, double K,” she pants. “Heard my cousin dumped you for a college student, that true?”

Keith glares at her. “I heard you have a tail. That true, Katie?” Lance is too busy being amazed at how he’s not panting to pay attention to their squabble.

Pidge grins. “Yep. It’s real cute. Like a little piggy,” she curls her finger in circles to imitate a pig’s tail. Keith frowns.  
“I just want to talk to Lance. Privately,” he stresses when Pidge keeps her pace. They both stop, leaving Lance to halt a few feet ahead of them. He looks back to see the two having a staring contest.

Why would Keith want to talk to Lance? It’s not like it can be about last week. Keith has had the chance several times to bitch about that since then. And he hasn’t. If he had something to say, Lance reasons, he would’ve said it by now.

So what the hell does he want?

“Okay, have fun,” Pidge wishes in a surprised tone. She glances at Lance with an expression he easily translates to _you better spill later._ Lance gulps. “I’ll be in the nurse’s office, with a migraine, taking contraband Aleve.” With that, she turns around to walk off the track in the direction of the school building.

Lance turns towards Keith, who barely smiles. He used to be shorter than Lance, but now he seems to be just inching ahead.

The Korean seems eager to jump right into it. “Look, I appreciate it, but it’s never gonna happen.” Whatever _it_ was. Lance scrunches his face in confusion. What the hell is Keith talking about? “From what I remember that kiss was hot, you know, for being in seventh grade.”

“Excuse me?” Lance asks, but he cuts himself off from saying anything else when his eyes dart down to see a _very_ familiar letter in the other boy’s hand. He swallows, but his tongue feels like sandpaper.

“I think it’s really cool that you think my eyes are the color of the midnight sky and everything,” Keith continues. “But me and Rolo are kinda in a weird spot right now and I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish— _whoa!_ ” Lance doesn’t hear what he says after that, because spots color his vision as a heavy pressure overwhelms his brain. He doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until the feeling of his head smashing against the ground fully knocks him out.

What feels like thirty seconds pass before he hears echoey voices fading in. There’s someone yelling and a feeling of skin touching skin. Warm.

Lance snaps his eyes open to violet irises staring back down at him. The strands of dark hair curling around Keith’s jawline are fuzzy, and it takes the Cuban a moment to realize that he’s talking.

“Lance, are you okay?”

Mumbling. Lance is mumbling. “What happened?” he asks in a clearer voice.

“You fainted.”

He sighs. “Oh, okay.” He closes his eyes again.

“Here, give me your hand.” Lance obliges, feeling the warm skin wrap around his once again. “And the other one, too. C’mon, there you go.” Lance feels like barfing. “You can do it. _Aaaand,_ you’re up.

Sitting up feels about ten times worse than lying down. He almost goes back to it, but the tight grip Keith has on his hands keep him from it. Lance groans and slouches.

“Now, do you want me to call someone? Get you a water? You look like you’re overheated.”

Lance wants to retort that Keith’s probably the one who’s overheated because of his attire and the fact that his hair is down, but his thoughts cut off when he looks up. Because, about fifty feet away, Ryan Kinkade is walking towards the track. Love letter in hand.

“Oh, fuck,” Lance curses. There’s a _what?_ from over his shoulder.

Ryan can’t come over here. He can’t know that Lance likes him. He wrote that piece of shit letter years ago! If Lance shows him he doesn’t like him anymore, he’d walk away, right? Then he wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of talking about long-passed feelings with his sister’s ex-boyfriend. And he could just avoid Ryan until the end of high school, and go off to some out-of-state college before he ever gets a chance to talk to him.

Lance’s heart is thumping every time Ryan takes a step closer to them, and before Lance can second think his actions, he whips around and grabs Keith’s dark shirt in his fists, pushing him onto his back. Keith lets out a grunt and a muttered _woah_ as Lance hovers his face two inches above his.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly. Keith only glances down to Lance’s lips for a moment before the brunet leans in, kissing him.

There’s the sound of slapping feet against the pavement as runners lap them and the P.E. teacher yelling at them to knock it off, but the only thing running through Lance’s mind is the fact that Keith is kissing _back_ _._ He’s pressing against Lance too. There’s a bit of hesitation behind it, but it seems to vanish the second Keith turns his head slightly to align their faces better.

“Hey! Stop that!” a voice cuts through his thoughts, and Lance looks up to see the teacher glaring at them. At any other time, the middle-aged man in a bright orange tracksuit perfectly matching his hair and mustache would’ve been comical, but right now the guy felt like a godsend. As much as Lance hated to admit it, he had no idea what to do next. It’s not like he could just stay there, pressing his lips against Keith. He’s had enough action to know that there has to be at least _some_ movement and energy put into it. People like Keith probably let their experience take the reins for most of it, but all of Lance’s past experiences were usually under the haze of underage drinking and fuzzy memories the morning after. Not that he’d gone _far_ _,_ but he doubts Keith only has the experience of a couple of sloppy, drunken makeouts where technique is the last thing on the participants’ minds.

“Back to running, McClain! That’s another lap!”

Lance switches his gaze down to Keith, who looks dazed and confused. With a quick glance to his right, he sees a just-as confused Ryan staring at them before turning away. Lance fixes his eyesight back on the boy under him. “Thank you,” he says and nods. Less than a second later, Lance springs up on his feet. Keith makes out a _wait, Lance_ before he’s up and running, not wanting detention for insubordination.

When Lance comes back around after completing a full lap, both are gone.

After the laps are done, Lance immediately runs to the locker room before anyone else. He speedwalks as fast as he can into a shower stall without slipping on the wet floor. He’s busy freaking out when the locker room door creaks open, to which he inhales sharply and doesn’t make a further sound.

“Hey, Lance, you in there?”

Lance cringes. That voice is the easily recognizable one of Haych “Hunk” Garrett. The same Hunk from freshman homecoming. Lance feels anxiety swirl in his gut. There is probably only a couple reasons Hunk is going out of his way to talk to him right now, and there’s a really obvious one right in Lance’s face.

“No,” he panics. He hears Hunk walking in anyways, letting the door shut behind him. There’s a moment before something slides across the floor under the shower curtain. Lance lowers his eyes to see the third letter. Hunk’s name and address are written neatly on the cover. He wants to vomit.

“This seemed kind of personal, so I thought you’d want it back. I didn’t mean to barge in on you, but I saw you run in here and I wanted to make sure you’re okay, and uh...yeah.”

“Hunk, you need to know I wrote this years ago,” Lance spits out. His hands are gripping the bars along the shower wall.

“I know. It was dated. Freshman homecoming, right?” The chuckle in the guy’s voice gives Lance enough confidence to push the curtain back, facing Hunk. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s blushing a deep crimson from the neck up. “Hey, Lance, I’m sorry. I’m really flattered about your past feelings for me and the fact that they were so intense you wrote an unsent love letter to me, which by the way, kudos to you because that takes a lot of courage—”

“Hunk, get on with it.”

He nods, scratching the back of his neck. “What I’m trying to say is, thank you for the letter, but you know I’m straight, right?”

He did not.  
  
“Oh, yeah, totally.” It’s hard to ignore the squeaky pitch in Lance’s voice. Hunk sees through the obvious lie, but just pats his back.

“If you need anything I’m here for you, okay? Take it easy.” With that, the Samoan turns the corner. The sound of the door reopening and closing notifies Lance that Hunk left. He groans, sliding down the tile wall.

When Lance gets home, he screams into his pillow. The duffle bag is empty when he searches through it. On his desk, there’s another familiar envelope and a note. _You got some mail_ _,_ his mom wrote. When he looks, Lance realizes with a sickly feeling that it’s his love letter to Nyma, stamped with _RETURN TO SENDER_ on the top.

In moments, the seventeen year-old is pacing and talking to himself.

“Okay. The letters are out. They’re out!” He reasons, throwing his hands up. “Nothing I can do about it. Silver lining, Nyma’s letter was addressed to camp, so she probably never saw it.”

“What are you doing?” Lance spins around to see Nadia staring at him from the ajar door.

“Nothing!” Lance squeaks. He feels like he should hide something, but he isn’t sure what. Nyma’s letter is already shoved deep into his trash can.

The little girl raises an eyebrow.

“Lance, Ryan is here!” his mom calls from downstairs. Lance’s eyes widen. He glances from the window back to Nadia.

“You never saw me,” he states. He quickly grabs his book bag with his wallet inside before shoving the window up and climbing out. There’s a possibility he twisted his ankle while falling off the roof if the sharp pains are anything to go by. Lance pulls Rachel’s old bike out of the shed as fast as he can, peddling the sparkly blue vehicle to wherever will be furthest away from Ryan.

Without intention he finds himself going to the Corner Cafe. He parks the bicycle outside. It leans droopily against the yellow brick.

The bell chimes when he opens the door. Lance strides past the _Seat yourself!_ sign and heads straight for the bar top.

Five minutes later, he’s busy angrily stabbing open the straw for his Sprite when an increasingly-familiar voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Hey, McClain.” He jolts when he looks to his left where the voice originated from. Sure enough, there sits Keith Kogane with a bewildered face. It’s the most emotion he’s ever seen on his face other than annoyance or anger, Lance notes. “You stalking me now?” The Cuban’s blue eyes bulge. He shakes his head vigorously as a waitress appears between them.

“What can I get you two? Want to get anything for your _friend_ _,_ sweetie?” she asks, and once the connotation of _friend_ stops ringing through Lance’s ears he realizes she’s talking to Keith.

“I’m not with him,” he clarifies a little bit too loudly. He jerks his head back to his soda when other customers look over at him. Keith orders a vanilla shake, not acknowledging the obvious side remark in the lady’s statement.

When she leaves, Lance keeps his gaze on his drink. He swirls the straw around in it. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m just here to have a milkshake.” At Lance’s glare of disapproval, Keith sighs in defeat. “Okay, fine, I stopped at your house, those kids said you’d probably be here.”

“Sylvio and Nadia,” Lance corrects instinctively.

“What?”

Lance finally turns his seat to face him. “The kids. Their names are Sylvio and Nadia.”

Keith nods, silent for a moment. Lance takes this as an invitation to turn back to his drink, expecting the conversation to be done.

“Anyways, I just want to be super clear.”

Guess he was wrong.  
  
“I’m flattered, I am, but...Rolo and I _just_ ended, sort of. Not that we were together, but—”

Lance grimaces. “Are you trying to reject me right now?”

“Yeah, because it doesn’t really seem like it took, back at school, so.” Keith looks pained just to be speaking about this subject to Lance.

Jesus Christ. “Keith, I’m not trying to date you.”

The other narrows his eyes. “I mean, you’re saying that, but your actions said something completely different back on the track, so—”

“What?” Lance halts when the waitress comes back to deliver Keith’s milkshake. He thanks her, and she walks away just as quickly to tend to other customers. “Okay, here’s the thing. I don’t actually like you. I just had to make it look like I liked you so someone else wouldn’t think I liked them.”

He could practically hear the gears shifting in Keith’s brain. After a moment, he shrugs. “Um, okay. Who?

“What?”

“Who? You gotta tell me who the mystery dude is, or else I’m just gonna think you’re actually head-over-heels for me.”

“No,” Lance states. He assumes the conversation has ended so he turns away from Keith and starts sipping his Coke while pulling out his phone.

“Okay, should I just tell the rest of the school that you wrote me a love letter?”

Lance spins around. He searches Keith’s eyes but finds no hints of bluffing. Holy shit, who knew Keith Kogane could be so _manipulative_ to get what he wants?  
“Ryan Kinkade,” he blurts.

Within five seconds, Keith’s expression turns from surprise to amusement to confusion. “Isn’t he dating your sister?”

Lance’s soda is almost done. He’s been nervously drinking it throughout the entire conversation. “He isn’t anymore, you asshole, and it was a long time ago.” Keith frowns as he continues. “And he also got a letter, so you can see how awkward and complicated that one is gonna get if he thinks I actually like him—”

“Woah woah hold on, stop,” Keith interrupts. “You’re telling me I’m not the only guy that got a letter?”

Lance shakes his head. The other huffs.

“Wow, you really think you’re special, then you find out he wrote love letters to two guys,” he mutters, staring down at his milkshake. He leans forward to take a long sip through the straw.

“Well, I wrote five letters, so don’t go feeling too special,” Lance mumbles.

Keith chokes on the milkshake. He jerks his head up. “Holy shit, you wrote _five_ love letters?” Lance nods numbly. “Damn McClain, you’re a player. Who else did you write them to?”

The Cuban rolls his eyes. In middle school, he would’ve killed to have Keith’s attention like this. Now he just wants to clock the dude upside the head. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

His face lights up in a smirk that sends shivers down Lance’s spine. “Maybe.” Lance huffs and lists them off quickly. Raised eyebrows join the smirk, making the top spot on Lance’s list of _Attractive Things About Keith Kogane._ “Uh, Hunk’s straight. You know that right?”

On any other night, Lance may have argued and claimed he did. Instead, he sighs into his cup. “I do now.” He raises his eyes too look at Keith from the corner of his vision. “We done?”

Keith dumbly nods as if he’s surprised that Lance would want to be ridden of his presence. Lance pulls money out to place on the counter, flashing a thumbs up at Keith before grabbing his bag.

“Wait, is that your bike outside? With the cute little basket and bell? The blue one?” Keith asks.

Lance rolls his eyes. “It’s my sister’s, shut up.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

He pauses halfway to grabbing his bag. Keith eyes him in the bent position. Lance grunts as he finally moves to place it over his shoulders. “I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I know that. I just thought it’d be annoying to bike home with how you’re limping.”

Lance narrows his eyes. His ankle still felt a little swollen from the fall earlier. “Yeah. I rolled off a roof.”

“You _what?_ ”

 

The ride home is mostly silent. Keith doesn’t talk once Lance hops in the passenger’s seat, and Lance doesn’t do anything to help form a conversation. He’s too tired.

They’re about five minutes from entering Lance’s neighborhood when Keith breaks the silence.  
“Why’d you write them, but not send them?”

He looks away from Keith, out the window. “They were never meant to be sent. I don’t know how they got out.”

“So why write the letters?”

Lance looks over at the teenager from the corner of his eye. Keith’s tone didn’t seem malicious. It actually sounded like he was genuinely curious. Lance goes back to staring out the window at the passing trees.

“Sometimes, especially after my dad died, I would have these really powerful bursts of emotions. It wasn’t always negative, but I could never control it. Something would tick me off and it’d change the entire day. My older brother showed me that writing my feelings out helped as a way to cope, I guess.”  
  
Keith hums. “Do you still write them?”

He shrugs. “Only sometimes. The last love letter I wrote was Hunk’s, in freshman year. My crush on him was more as a way of a rebound from Ryan, though.”

“I was the first?”

Lance turns his gaze to look at him. Keith continues staring at the road ahead, bangs brushing his eyes. “Was I the first letter you wrote?” he fixes.

“Yeah,” he answers quietly, staring. Keith glances over at him, looking uneasy.

“I understand,” he whispers.

“You do?”

He nods. “Um, my mom died while giving birth to me. My dad was a firefighter, but he died in a wildfire when I was three. I was orphaned at a really young age so I became closed off and stuff. I didn’t want friends because I thought they’d die too. I went about six months without talking at one point.

“Sometimes I’d snap at my foster families and scream because I had no other way to show how I felt. It resulted in me moving between families a lot.”

“That’s shitty, Keith,” is all Lance can think to say. The younger huffs a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, yeah it was. I wasn’t in touch with my emotions at all. I was such an outcast.”

“You’re practically the opposite of that now,” Lance notes. “What changed?”

Keith doesn’t respond for a moment, shifting into low gear as they climb a steep hill. “When I was nine I moved into a new foster family. After a year they adopted me. My new brother was eight years older than me, and he taught me how to be more social and whatever. Told me not to be afraid of emotions and to let people into my life and that sappy shit. I definitely wouldn’t have been even close to who I am now if it weren’t for him.” Even an idiot can hear the fondness in Keith’s voice for his brother.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Lance mutters.  
  
“Letting people in?” he nods as Keith pulls onto his street. “Why?”

“Because once you do, they leave.”

The Korean doesn’t reply, seeming to take in Lance’s words. The ride up the road is silent. When Keith parks the car outside Lance’s house, he grabs his sleeve before the brunet can exit the car.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I know we’re not like...suddenly besties, or anything, we don’t even have to be friends, but if you need someone to talk to about this kind of stuff, I’m here, okay?”

Lance stares at him for a moment. “Thanks, Keith. Sorry for the whole ‘jumping you’ thing.”

Keith just smiles, making Lance’s heart beat out of his chest. “Could’ve been worse, right?”

He laughs. “Yeah, it could’ve.”

“What are you gonna do about Kinkade?”

Lance’s mood sours. “I guess I’ll have to talk to him.”

“So are you gonna say you like him, or that you don’t like him?”

Lance narrows his eyes and begins getting out of the car. He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. “It’s not your problem, Keith.” He gets out of the Jeep, grabbing Rachel’s bike off of the back of the car. He wheels it to the front of the door without another word.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Sylvio or Nadia are still here considering on any other occasion they’d run out to hug around Lance’s legs the moment they saw him walking up the lawn. Lance heaves a sigh of relief. That’s one problem evaded. Now he just needs to get inside without Ryan seeing him.

“Hey, hold on,” Keith calls. Lance spins to see him jogging around the front of the car to him. “What if you didn’t tell him?” He stops in front of Lance, hands in his jacket pockets.

“What?”

“What if we let people think we’re actually together? Just for a little while. And not just Kinkade, but everyone.” The longer Keith talks the more Lance is confused. Did he suddenly snort cocaine in the short time Lance has been out of the car?

“Why would you want that?”

Keith shrugs his shoulders, but answers. “Well for starters, when Rolo heard that you kissed me, he went _nuts._ And if he thinks you and I are a thing, he’ll stop being an asshole.”

Lance narrows his eyes. “And go back to being with you?”

“Well, we weren’t dating—”

“Sorry, go back to fucking around with you?” Lance corrects. Keith has enough decency to look abashed, averting his eyes. White upper teeth come out to gently bite at his lip.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

“So you want to use me as your pawn,” Lance concludes.

Keith contorts his face. “You used me first when you kissed me, Lance.”

The Cuban is about to spit something back but falters. Keith is technically right. It’s not like he knew of the plan to kiss him (not that Lance did either, considering it was a split-second decision to get Ryan to leave) and he didn’t have the chance to state whether he wanted to be kissed that way or not.

Lance huffs. Deciding he doesn’t have the energy to talk, he turns around without a word, walking the bike to the front porch.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now, okay,” Keith calls from where he still stands.

Lance sets the bike down and hops up the porch steps. “Yep, don’t hold your breath.” He pulls the front door open and enters the house, closing the door on Keith with no further explanation.

Although he tried to act like he didn’t care about the idea of fake-dating Keith, Lance was up late thinking about it. He didn’t even get his trig homework done. Most of the night was spent either looking through Keith’s instagram (a total of three pictures, each spanning about a year between their posting) and distractedly reading the last few chapters of _The Forbidden Kiss._ When he finally finishes it, he doesn’t even react. The last ten pages hadn’t even sunk in, so he has no idea what had been going on. His mind is too busy flicking through memories of snarky smirks and dark hair licking around someone’s neck.

He groans. He’d just have to reread the last few chapters another time. Lance places the novel on his nightstand, turning off the lamp. He drops his head on his pillow with a sigh.

It’s right before he falls asleep that Lance realizes he hadn’t thought of Ryan once since he got home because his thoughts had been too full of Keith.

_This might work._

 

* * *

 

 

The next Thursday he corners Keith right before the athlete goes into the locker room after practice.

“Let’s do this,” Lance states. He hates the fact that he has to slightly tilt his chin upwards to look Keith in the eyes now.

“You sure?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lance nods. The Korean looks around them for a moment before turning back to Lance. Without another word, he cups Lance’s cheek with his hand and dips down to kiss him.

He makes a small surprised noise, but grabs onto the hems of Keith’s jersey. The lacrosse players hoot at them as they walk into the locker room.

Lance pulls away with heated cheeks. “I’m going to trig,” he states, ripping his hands off of Keith’s uniform. “Have a nice day.”

His fake-boyfriend looks easily as frazzled. “Uh, yeah.”

Later that day Lance makes sure to grab Keith before he goes to sit down at the lunch tables. The jock complains about it the entire time he drags him down the corridors, but Lance doesn’t speak until they reach the commons area outside. They sit down at a wooden picnic table. Lance makes sure to set his things down carefully to avoid splinters from the old wood. Keith puts his lunch tray down with a huff as Lance pulls a notebook and pen out along with a bag of carrots for lunch.

“First things first,” he begins. “We need ground rules.”

“We do? For what?”

“Well, I don’t want you to kiss me anymore.”

Keith, who had been halfway into drinking from his milk carton, halts and pulls it down. “Why?”

Lance purposefully keeps his eyes trained on the white paper as he writes _CONTRACT_ in big, blocky letters at the top. “Because, Kogane, I’ve never been in a relationship before. Everything I’ve done was quick and while drunk. I actually want to remember things like kissing my first boyfriend or girlfriend.”

The other nods. After a moment, he shrugs and drinks the rest of his milk. “Fair enough,” he states when he pulls the carton away. “I doubt we’d have to do this for long, anyways. Rolo’s already found out about us through the lacrosse players, so he’s pissed.”

“You told the lacrosse players about us?”

“Uh, yeah? I kind of had to explain us kissing after practice.”

“Oh,” Lance doesn’t know why he feels so dejected. “Yeah, of course.” There’s a moment of silence when he writes _no kissing_ on his paper. He chuckles. “Rolo already hates me, but now that I’ve got his man, it’s a whole _the hunter becomes the hunted_ sort of thing.”

“What?”

Lance raises his head. “ _Helloo_ _,_ that’s a line from like, at least six of my favorite movies.”

“The only movies I watch are classics or nature documentaries.”

“Wow, didn’t expect that one.”

Keith only shrugs again. “There’s few exceptions for pop culture masterpieces, but yeah, that’s it.”  
  
“Like what?”

“Stuff like _Filthy, Preppy Teens._ ”

“Never heard of it.”

Keith looks genuinely offended. “Seriously?” He huffs at Lance’s blank expression. “ _I’m gay, I’m asian, and I’m popular. I’m unstoppable!_ You at _least_ have to recognize that line.”

“Sorry,” Lance shakes his head.

“Oh my god,” he scoffs, swiping the notebook from Lance. He quickly scrawls along the paper before handing it back. _Watch Filthy, Preppy Teens_ is written in messy handwriting.

“Seriously? That’s going in our contract?”

“Yes.”  
  
“Fine, but you have to watch my favorites, too.” It doesn’t take long for him to come up with a couple examples of his favorite trope.

“Isn’t that one an anime?” Keith asks, pointing to a name on the list.  
  
“Yes, but it’s a good anime.”

“Fair enough.” Keith takes a bite of his apple while thinking. Once he finishes chewing, he opens his mouth. “You have to go to parties and my lacrosse games.”

Lance actually laughs. “Not a chance, Kogane.”

“How else are we going to convince people we’re dating if you don’t let me kiss you and you don’t go to social outings with me?”

Keith kind of has a point, but Lance would never admit it. He leans his arm on the table and cups his jaw. “We can hold hands. Hug and stuff. If you’re nice to me, I may even let you put your arm around my shoulder.”

“Wow, how can a man be so lucky?” Keith asks sarcastically. Lance throws carrots at him. “Okay, stop the assault. You’re way too good at aiming,” he complains when one lands in his hair. Lance halts with a satisfied smirk. “Also, I’m going to write you notes.”

“Why?”

“Because Rolo always wanted that sappy shit but I never did because he drove me so crazy I never wanted to say anything nice to him.”

“Then why did you even stay with him? Why want him back?”

Keith doesn’t make eye contact with Lance, instead looking down at their contract. “I don’t know. We’ve been a thing for years. After having him around for so long, it’s weird to not.”

The notion doesn’t seem so crazy, now that Lance thinks about it. Keith just wants routine back in his life, and as much as the dude drove him nuts, Rolo was part of it.

“Okay. Also, you have to drive me, Nadia, and Sylvio to school everyday. I’m sick of feeling like I’m gonna die every morning.”

Keith steals a carrot. “Deal, but only to protect the students of Adler High. Not everyone is strong enough to survive getting run over by you.”

“I barely even hit you!”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, biting into the carrot. After a pause for chewing, he nods. “But sure, I’ll drive you guys to school. But you have to go on the ski trip with me.”

The ski trip was all the way in December. That was three months from now. “You think we’ll still be doing this by then?” The ski trip was notorious for more kids losing their virginities than prom, homecoming, and Sadie’s combined. Lance, obviously, has never gone.

“I doubt it, but if we are, there’s no way that someone would let their boyfriend go alone.”

Lance hates that Keith is right. “Fine.” He finishes writing the last rule before pulling back to look at the entire list.

 

  * __No kissing__


  * _Watch Filthy, Preppy Teens, Predator 1 and 2, Attack on Titan, etc._


  * _Lance has to go to parties and Keith’s lacrosse games_


  * _No snitching (obviously)_


  * _Holding hands, arm wrapping, hugs, etc._


  * _Love notes_


  * _Keith has to drive Lance, Nadia, and Sylvio to school_


  * _SKI TRIP_



 

The last rule is underlined about three times. Lance sighs in defeat before signing the bottom. Keith does the same. After signing it they shake hands, much to Keith’s amusement.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning Lance practically hears Sylvio’s jaw drop when Keith’s jeep pulls up in the street. He hurriedly runs to it, despite not knowing the person driving.

“Sylvio, slow down!” Lance calls. Nadia walks beside him, more composed than her older brother. When they reach the car, Keith pushes the passenger’s door open for Lance with a smile.

“Good morning,” he greets.

“Morning.” Lance helps his niece and nephew into the backseat before placing his book bag on the floor in the front, hopping in.

“Who are you?” Nadia interrogates the second Lance buckles up.

“I’m Keith,” his fake-boyfriend answers.

“He’s the boy Lance hit with the car!” Sylvio nudges his sister. Lance groans.

Nadia doesn’t seem satisfied. “How do you know Tio Lance?”

Keith stares at Lance with a look that makes his chest tighten. “I guess I’m his boyfriend.” He smiles and turns around to the flabbergasted children. “Hey, mini-McClain, what you got?”

Lance turns his head to see Nadia gripping something in her hand. There’s already a bite taken out of it.

Nadia chirps out a _pan con bistec!_ _,_ much to Keith’s confusion. “It’s a pressed sandwich with steak, mojo sauce, and onions which was supposed to be saved for your lunch, _Nadia._ ”

She ignores her uncle’s scolding, instead taking a liking to Keith. “Do you want some?” Keith nods. She rips off a piece of the sandwich to him, who pops it in his mouth.

He smiles. “This is really good.”

“It’s cuban food!” Sylvio states.

“That’s cool. I’ll make sure to get you guys some Yakult sometime. It’s korean yogurt.”

The two seem pleased with the idea, and spend the rest of the car ride explaining different cuban foods and desserts they are _positive_ he has to try.

That day is weird. People are suddenly talking about Lance, according to his friends. He can’t walk down a hallway without several pairs of eyes on him, even if he doesn’t have Keith at his side. After so long of being the person that everyone knew _of_ but only had a few select people he talked to, multiple people greet him. During class, in the hallways. Hell, there was even a guy asking him how he got together with Keith while they both stood at the urinals.

During lunch Keith hands Lance a note. It’s an obvious gesture, done in front of Rolo’s table on purpose. If the grinding teeth and malicious glare on his face are anything to go by, he’s not happy about it. Lance tucks the note into his back pocket without reading it. It’s probably blank anyways.

“Good job,” Keith mutters under his breath. He tucks a strand of hair behind Lance’s ear before heading off to the lunch line.

It’s awkward to be told _good job_ for just receiving a note and holding Keith’s hand sometimes. But, then again, this entire situation is awkward. And weird. Why are they doing this again?  
  
Lance meets eyes with Ryan across the cafeteria. He looks conflicted. _Right. That’s why._

His former best friend almost looks like he’s going to get up to talk to him, so Lance books it out of the cafeteria as fast as he can. He ends up running into Pidge in the hallway. She pulls him into an empty teacher’s lounge with a bewildered look on her face, demanding to know when Lance suddenly got the hots for Keith. Lance feels like shit for lying to her, but it states in the contract that no one can know.

“I don’t know,” is all he says.

“How’d Veronica react?”

He goes still. “I haven’t been talking to her a whole lot. She’s been busy.”

That’s a lie. Every time Lance gets close to skyping her, he feels like he’s going to get sick. It’s the same for Rachel. The idea of lying to his sisters makes his stomach roll. It’s bad enough that Sylvio and Nadia got involved.

The guilt for not calling his eldest sister carries with him throughout the day. That evening, he cracks.

“Hey! I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever!” she greets the moment the call picks up. She answered almost immediately. Lance twitches at the thought of her waiting around for his calls.

“Yeah,” he chuckles fakely. “I’ve been really busy, sorry. You know how it gets during junior year.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” she sympathizes. “AP Government was the worst.”

Lance nods. It’s not that bad, but he doesn’t admit it.

“So what are you doing?”

“Um, in a couple of minutes I’m going to go make cupcakes for Sylvio’s bake sale.”

Veronica makes a face. “Ugh, that’s so much work. You should’ve just made brownies, they’re way easier.”

Lance avoids looking at the laptop screen, instead focusing on picking at his cuticles. “Yeah, well, you’re not here, so.”

He doesn’t miss the drop in his sister’s expression. “Yeah, you’re right.” There’s a beat of silence. “Hey, have you talked to Ryan?”

Lance freezes. There’s no way he can tell her anything that’s going on with Ryan right now, because that’d mean he’d have to tell her about the letters, his past feelings, Keith...and he can’t do that. Definitely not. But he can’t lie to her either.

“Uh, I just realized I need to get working on these cupcakes! Gotta go, talk to you later, Ronnie!”

“Wait, Lance—” she’s cut off when Lance snaps his laptop closed.

He’s in the middle of mixing the flour into the second batches bowl an hour later when the doorbell rings. He may have gotten a little bit too into baking, considering he now has flour all over himself. It coats his shirt and is probably in his hair, too. He tries to shake it out before opening the door.

Keith stands before him, an eyebrow raised. “Hey, Pillsbury doughboy,” he greets. Lance rolls his eyes before turning back for the kitchen. Keith follows him after closing the door and taking his shoes off. “What are you doing? We can’t go out with you looking like that.”

Lance scoffs. “What are you talking about? I’m making cupcakes for Sylvio’s bake sale.”

Keith hums when they walk into the kitchen. The smell of vanilla envelops his nostrils. “You should’ve just made something you can cut into squares. Like brownies, or rice krispie treats. Those are way easier.”

Lance rolls his eyes. Why is everyone so against him making cupcakes? He ignores Keith as he goes back to mixing. “What are you doing here, Keith?” he asks.

“Didn’t you read my note earlier? I’m taking you to James’ party.”

“I thought you hated James.”

“Oh, I do. He’s definitely an asshole. But Rolo’s going to be there, and so is half of our grade.”

Lance snorts at Keith’s bluntness. Right. This was all fake. “Nice, but I’m not going.”

“Going to parties is in the contract,” Keith points out.

“Well I’d rather stay in for the night.”

His mom walks through the archway, carrying a load of tupperware with her for the cupcakes. She halts once she sees Keith. “ _Hostia_ , Keith Kogane, is that you?”

Lance is honestly surprised she remembers who he is. The last time she saw him was at eighth grade graduation, and he was considerably two feet shorter than he is now.

His mother places the tupperware on the counter before rounding the island to hug Keith. “Hi Ms. McClain,” he greets awkwardly, side-eying Lance from the hug. She pulls back.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was planning to take Lance to a party, if that’d be okay with you,” he answers politely. His mother turns away from Keith to send a devious look to her son. Lance wants to melt into the floor.

“Of course!” she states. “Lance, go get dressed! You can’t go to a party looking like a ghost.”

“But—”

“No but’s! Go,” she demands, pushing him towards the stairs. “I can handle finishing the last batch. Go be social.”

Lance groans. As he leaves the room he hears her tell Keith _no drinking, no drugs, no hands_ and his fake-boyfriend answering _yes, ma’am_ almost immediately.

 

The house Keith takes him to is huge. It’s probably three times the size of Lance’s, which says a lot considering they fit seven people in there at one point in time. Keith parks a ways down the street, and they both walk up to the property in the dark. Luckily there are street lights, or else Lance would’ve walked into someone’s side mirror.

About two houses before they reached James Griffin’s lawn, Keith entwines his fingers with Lance’s. He feels his face heat up as they grip each other tightly.  
  
When they reach the door, Lance stops him. “We need to make this more convincing,” he reasons as he takes Keith’s phone. He pulls up the camera and quickly takes a selfie while leaning into the other. After a moment, he has the picture set up as Keith’s lock screen.

He takes out his own phone, handing it to the Korean. “Your turn,” he explains. Keith frowns.

“I don’t like taking selfies,” he mutters.

“Then take a photo with me,” Lance negotiates, pulling the phone out his hands. He positions himself in front of Keith. “Wrap your arms around my shoulders and act like you like me,” he orders with a laugh. Keith snickers but does as he’s told as Lance lifts the phone. After the picture is taken, he quickly changes it to his lock screen as well. “There, all good. Let’s go.”

The two have to walk through a large foyer to get to the main party. Their hands are interlocked again, and Keith weaves Lance through couples making out to get to the main living room. The entire place is crowded with drunk teenagers, some spilling out into the back yard. If the ceilings weren’t so high, Lance would’ve felt claustrophobic.

He feels Keith squeeze Lance’s hand to get his attention. He leans in close to yell in the Cuban’s ear. “I’m going to get us some drinks, okay?”

Lance is about to nod when he hears a voice calling him over the music. He turns his head to see Rolo and other football players sprawled along the sofas. Judging by the hand gestures, Rolo wants Lance to come sit.

“Yeah, okay,” Lance yells back at Keith, eyes still on Rolo. He leans closer to the other. “Get me alcohol. I’ll need it.” He think Keith snorts, but then the grip on his hand is gone and Keith is weaving through the crowd of people to get to the kitchen.

Lance makes his way to the sofas with disinterest. Some group of girls have showed up, sprawling themselves along the guys’ laps. He sits down with a huff. “What’s up?” he asks.

“When did you and Keith become a thing?” one of the girls sitting next to Rolo asked. Lance notes that she seems to be one of the only chicks not on someone.

Lance eyes Rolo from the corner of his vision. It’s obvious he’s trying to act like he’s not listening, but he obviously is. Lance smirks.

“We went on our first date last week, but we’ve been talking for a long time now,” he answers. He purposefully leaves the ending vague, knowing that the split between Rolo and Keith happened about two weeks ago.

Do the other guys now about them? Keith had always tried to keep the relationship between him and Rolo a secret, but Lance isn’t sure if the latter was the same. If they didn’t, Rolo must be seething in his seat for the topic of conversation being his old toy’s new relationship with his ex best friend.

One of girls lying on a hockey player grins. “So how far have you two gone yet?”

Lance scrunches his face. “I literally just said our first date was last week.”

“Don’t bother, guys. We all know Lance is the biggest virgin of the school. They haven’t done shit,” Rolo states, crossing his arms.

Instead of being annoyed, Lance smirks. “And how would you know, Rolo? You’re not the one in a relationship with him, so it’s not like you have the credibility.”

Rolo’s jaw drops. The girls are snickering behind their hands, while the guys are laughing and hooting loudly. One of them smacks Rolo’s head. “He’s got you there, buddy!” he jeers.

Rolo looks pissed and is about to say something but stops, looking at someone above Lance. A moment later, he feels a calloused hand brush against his neck. He looks up to see Keith standing over him with a soft smile on his face.

“Got your drink.” The volume of his voice contrasts his calm composure. Keith steps over the couch to sit down next to him, placing the drinks on the coffee table. He must have see Rolo sitting there, because he doesn’t look surprised when the two exes make eye contact.

Rolo jerks his gaze over to Lance. Instead of backing down like he usually did, Lance wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders, narrowing his eyes. Keith leans his weight into Lance’s side, not noticing the exchange between the two.

And instead of being aggressive like he usually is, Rolo backs off with a huff. He gets up and walks back into the crowd, a trail of friends awkwardly following him. A couple of the hockey players bump fists with Keith before leaving. After a moment, they’re the only ones left on the couch.

Keith hands him a plastic cup filled with some type of alcohol. He only has what looks like fruit punch in his, since he’s driving. Lance looks down at his drink in the dim lighting. It looks like some sort of beer.

“Alright, bottoms up,” he states. Without hesitation, he downs the entire drink in a couple of chugs, much to Keith’s protests. It burns the second he swallows. His sinuses feel like they’re on fire, tears immediately springing to his eyes. He starts coughing wildly as his fake-boyfriend laughs his ass off instead of helping.

Between heaving fits, Lance manages to make out a _what the fuck is this?_ as he looks up to Keith. Violet eyes are crinkled closed from laughter. Finally, he calms down enough to answer.

“You just fucking downed a half cup of tequila, oh my god,” he laughs. “That shits usually taken in shots!”

“It’s not my fault! I thought it was just some shitty beer! And I haven’t drank in a really long time, okay?”

Keith grins. “Yeah, and never again after tonight. Put that down, your mom is going to kill me, holy shit.”

Lance obliges and slumps into the couch. The two settle into easy conversation. At one point, Lance takes his phone out to show Keith a video he was talking about.

When it’s finished, he switches to snapchat to mess around with the filters. There’s strange ones that warp their faces, which makes Lance laugh hard against Keith’s chest. It’s barely been more than ten minutes since he drank the tequila, but he already finds his head growing fuzzy.

Keith rests his chin on Lance’s shoulder absentmindedly, leaning forward to look at the screen. He takes the phone from Lance’s hands, who doesn’t put up much of a fight. Keith switches to the filter with hearts over their heads. He turns on the flash before flipping to the rear-facing camera.

“The picture won’t come out unless we have more light,” he explains in Lance’s ear. Lance finds himself nodding, going along with whatever the other is saying. Keith lifts the phone, flipping it around before pressing the volume buttons to take the photo. There’s a warning flash, and Lance finds himself moving his chin at the last second to kiss Keith’s cheek.

The photo ends up slightly blurry. Lance’s filter disappeared because he moved his face, but he laughs at Keith’s look of surprise as soon as it took the photo. He snatches the phone from his fake-boyfriend’s hands before he can delete it, saving it to his memories.

Keith only scoffs and rolls his eyes. Lance doesn’t miss the fact that he tightens his grip around his waist.

Keith later leaves for the bathroom, and Lance finds Hunk to talk to. He’s in the middle of making the taller try kombucha when he spots Keith coming towards him in the crowd. Maybe chugging that tequila wasn’t the _best_ idea because the multicolored lights around the room make it look like he’s glowing. Lance blinks. Keith is in front of him. Wasn’t he across the room a second ago?

He tunes back into the noise of the party, where Hunk is gagging next to him and Keith is speaking. Lance glances at his friend before turning back to the Korean.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here and grab some food?”

Lance looks towards Hunk, who’s still groaning. He shakes his head, waving them off. “Nah, you can leave. I’m good. Have a good night, Lance.”

Keith grabs his wrist and tugs him through the crowd. Lance has the chance to drunkenly wave goodbye at Hunk before they disappear in the crowd.

 

They end up going to a McDonalds. When Keith asks for his order, he rattles something random off. There’s no customers other than them at this time of night, but Keith still has them eat in the Jeep. He parks it facing away from the McDonalds, in front of a stretch of woods twenty feet from the fast food restaurant.

Lance is too drunk to have an appetite right now so instead he just got some fries and a soda. Keith has a chicken sandwich in his lap, but he claims it’s gross and puts it back in the bag after the first bite. He doesn’t find it amusing, unlike his intoxicated friend in the passenger’s seat. Now they’re just sipping on their sugary fountain drinks, talking about random things. Lance smiles. This was nice. For once, they were acting as if they were normal friends, not just two people fake-dating each other out of convenience.

After a while, they’re situated to where both boys are leaning over the gear shift to hear the other. There’s no reason to speak quietly, but Lance finds himself murmuring to match Keith’s low tone.

Keith’s next question makes Lance sit up a little straighter. “Are you still into Kinkade?”

The Cuban shakes his head slowly. “Nah. There was barely anything left when everything happened in the first place, but I think the trauma of my letters coming out destroyed it.”

Keith laughs lightly. His bangs brush Lance’s cheek, and he turns to see the other’s face two inches from his own.

He must notice, but stays silent. Instead, he tries to keep it casual. “The other day, Acxa hit a home run during the softball game next to the lacrosse field. It went so far it hit Lotor in the head.”

“Oh my god,” Lance snickers.

“He had to go to the nurses office,” Keith mutters. Lance notes he keeps the close proximity between them while talking.

Lance huffs out a laugh, glancing at Keith’s lips. Not thinking, he leans forward to kiss him.

Unfortunately (fortunately? Lance isn’t sure) lacrosse and hockey has refined Keith’s reflexes. His hand shoots out to Lance’s collarbone, pushing him away gently. Lance frowns. Keith sees this and immediately backtracks, looking panicked with a hand still on his chest.

“Lance, in the contract—”

“It’s not like it has to mean anything,” Lance interrupts, leaning forward again. Keith huffs, pushing the seventeen year-old back once more. Lance whines. He rolls his eyes, but reaches up to push Lance’s hair off his forehead before gently easing him back into the passenger’s seat.

“Lance, you’re drunk. Really drunk. The entire reason we made the contract was because you wanted your firsts to mean something.”

The brunet crosses his arms and pouts, looking out the window. “That’s a lie, idiot. I just don’t want to fake it with _you._ ” There’s a choking noise from Keith next to him. The sound of the engine starting fills the car interior.

“I’m taking you home, Lance. You’re drunk,” he repeats. Lance only sighs and rests his forehead against the window. He ignores him for the rest of the ride.

When Keith drops him off, he offers to come inside to make sure Lance doesn’t die going up the stairs. Lance shakes him off. “I’m fine,” he mutters. “Goodnight.” He pushes the door open and clambers out. His legs feel like jello.

“Goodnight, Lance. Drink a bottle of water before you go to bed. If you puke, drink gatorade or something.”

“Yes, dear,” he replies mockingly, but to his disappointment Keith doesn’t look bothered. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he slams the Jeep door shut before stomping up to the front door.

Thirty minutes later, after drinking two bottles of water and almost getting caught by his mom, Lance passes out on his sheets, dead to the world.

When he wakes up he’s tagged in a picture on Instagram. He opens the notification to see him and Keith with their McDonald’s bags. Keith’s head is resting on his shoulder, leaning over the gearshift to touch him. The only thing Keith wrote in the caption is _him._ Lance realizes with a shudder that over six hundred people have liked it already. It’s barely one in the afternoon; how many people even follow Keith?

Without thinking, Lance hits _comment_ and types in several heart emojis as a response. Then, after hesitating, he screenshots the photo and sets it as his home screen.

People will only ever see the picture of them on his lock screen, so there’s no reason for him to put Keith on his home screen as well. Lance ignores that.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance hates how quickly time goes while he’s with Keith. Two weeks pass. When Keith states that all he wants for his birthday is a night in, Lance surprises him with flowers and a movie night with Sylvio and Nadia. He orders Keith’s favorite pizza and they lie on the couch together. His niece and nephew fit themselves in between the cracks. It’s strangely domestic, with Keith lying his head on Lance’s chest while watching the movie on the TV.

For the entire time they’ve been fake dating, they’ve only really hung out at places Ryan or Rolo would be at, or to specifically take a picture of them doing that thing to post it on social media.

This night, something changes.

Maybe it’s a look shared for too long or hands settled too close, but they don’t post anything that night. They just enjoy the other’s company.

“Happy birthday, Keith,” he whispers into the now-seventeen year-old’s hair. Keith has since moved himself into the crook of Lance’s neck. He can tell the Korean is quickly falling asleep.

“Thanks, old man,” is the response, lips brushing against Lance’s skin with every syllable.

“Don’t drool on me, brat.”

“You love it.”

 

* * *

 

 

They hit a month mark after the official beginning of this entire scenario. It’s November, now, and later Keith is going to pick Lance up to go to dinner. Strangely enough, it almost feels like they’re actually dating. Neither of them have discussed the whole _fake_ part of their relationship in about a week. Lance is getting ready when the door rings. When he opens it, Ryan is standing before him with a determined expression.  
  
“Can we talk, now?”

Lance nods and closes the door behind him. Ryan sits down on one of the wicker chairs while he leans against the side of the house.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Keith Kogane,” his childhood friend starts off with. Lance scrunches his face.

“Why? Is it so unbelievable that someone could like me?”

Ryan immediately backtracks. “N-no, it’s just...you’re the sweet, funny guy and he’s a complete dick! I don’t get it.”  
Lance cross his arms tightly over his chest. “I’m not some innocent child, Ryan. Keith is sweet and funny too. Just because we’re not mirror images of each other doesn’t mean we aren’t compatible.”

“But there’s a point when it’s too far! Keith is the edgy all-star athlete who had never even looked at you before.”

Lance pauses. Ryan was right. Keith was still Keith. He hadn’t noticed Lance before their predicament. But that doesn’t matter considering he’s around _now_ and they’re not even dating.

“Is this all you wanted to talk about?” he snaps. Ryan is silent for a moment, and Lance frowns. “I’m done here.” He stomps back to the front door, hand on the knob.

“No, Lance, wait,” his friend stands from the porch chair. Lance stops to glare at him. “Did you mean what you wrote in the letter?”

He shrugs. Lance hadn’t even thought of those dumb letters in a while. Instead of feeling deep-rooted embarrassment when thinking of them, he just felt apathetic. So what? It happened. His fake relationship with Keith was fixing it, because Ryan now knew for sure Lance was into someone else. “I don’t know. I wasn’t the one who sent them, if that’s what you’re asking. It was years ago, anyways. ”

“Not for me. This is all new, so like, I’m…” Ryan runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to understand here.”

“There’s nothing to understand. It was a mistake that the letter got out and you should have never seen it,” the younger responds coldly.

“I did see it!” Lance flinches back at the volume. Never, not once in their entire friendship, had Ryan Kinkade yelled at him. “Alright? So what am I supposed to do?”

“Not tell Veronica?”

Ryan drops his hands from his hair. “Veronica’s not even talking to me. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Lance lowers his eyes. It took a blind man to not notice that their friendship is wounded. What they had before was gone, ran over by a bus, in a neck brace or paralyzed or something but it definitely won’t go back the way it was. He grits his jaw and turns the doorknob. “I’m sorry, I have to go get ready for dinner,” he mutters, pulling open the door.

“So this is what it’s gonna be?” Ryan asks in a deep tenor. “Veronica breaks up with me, you’re dating Kogane and now we can’t even be friends anymore?”

“I don’t know how to be friends with you like this, okay? I can’t, Ryan.” Lance turns away from the door to face him. “Not right now. We can’t go back to what it was _before_ you and Ronnie started dating, and we definitely can’t go back to how it was _when_ you were dating.”

“If I’d know I was gonna lose the both of you like this I wouldn’t’ve—”

“Stop,” Lance interrupts. He steps back to the door. “Don’t finish that sentence. Goodbye, Ryan.” With that, he enters the house, shuts the door, and walks back to his room to get ready for dinner.

Surprisingly, Keith actually takes him to a nice place. It’s a little family-run italian place off main street. Lance’s never been. When he tells this to Keith in the Jeep, his fake-boyfriend smiles.

“You’re in for a treat. We go here after every win,” he explains, referring to the lacrosse team. He’s wearing a red long-sleeved shirt with black jeans. His hair is pulled into that short ponytail again. He glances to Lance while driving. “You said your favorite food is garlic knots, right?” The brunet hums in affirmation. Keith grins. “Good. This is the best place in town.”

They have to wait in a queue when they arrive due to it being Friday night. The line is long, filtering out the door a-ways. Lance finds he doesn’t mind waiting, considering the night air is cool and it makes for more time talking to Keith.

“Alright, favorite color?” said teenager asks. Lance huffs.

“That’s such a cliche one,” he complains.  
  
The Korean smiles and crosses his arms, leaning against the old brick side of the restaurant. “Well, that doesn’t mean I suddenly know the answer.”

After a pause, “grey.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like, a slate-grey. Almost blue, but not quite.”

Keith looks genuinely impressed. “Didn't expect that one out of you, McClain.”

Lance finds himself moving closer as the line shifts forward. “I’m a man of many surprises.”

“You are,” the taller murmurs. They’re inches apart now. “Mine’s blue, too.”

The brunet hums. “What kind?”

“The one like your eyes. Dark. There’s brown in the middle, too.”

Lance doesn’t have the chance to respond because the line moves forward again and they finally enter the restaurant doors. Inside, waiters and hosts bustle through the lobby, grabbing menus and coloring paper for children as fast as they can usher customers to their seats. The entire place smells like garlic and tomatoes.

“How pissed would you be if I ordered chicken fingers here?” Keith asks. Lance spins to him.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns. “I’ll leave the restaurant. Don’t be that guy.”

His fake-boyfriend laughs, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, I was just joking.”

After a couple more minutes they’re seated towards the back of the restaurant in a booth near the bar. The music was faint in the lobby, but now that they’re further from the central crowd of people Lance can hear faint classical playing from the speakers.

Sometime after they get their drinks, Keith nudges his leg with his foot. “You said you liked me after we kissed in seventh grade. Why’d it stop?”

Lance shrugs. “I dunno. Guess I was scared of Rolo disemboweling me.”

Keith chuckles around his cup, held up to his lips. He sets it down. “You’re not gonna go and get feelings for me again since you’re not scared of him anymore, are you, McClain?” Something in his voice makes the Lance unsure if Keith wants him to answer no.

Lance scoffs, ignoring the churning feeling in his gut. “Of course not,” he lies.

 

It was a split-second decision to invite Keith over after their dinner.

It’s definitely not something they’ve done before. In his offer, Lance made no confirmation of a movie night or anything that would still be counted as something platonic friends would do. All he says is _we could just hang out,_ giving no further explanation. Surprisingly, Keith agrees.

So this is how they end up walking through the front door, giggling over some stupid inappropriate joke to get caught by Marco and his kids.

It’s not like they were doing something bad, really, but Lance still feels the instinct to run the second his brother lays eyes on Keith. He’s lounging on the sofa with Sylvio and Nadia on either side. One of the Harry Potter movies plays on the TV.

“Hey—” he begins to greet before stopping, seeing Keith come in behind Lance. The boys immediately stop laughing. If this were any other situation, Lance would tease the other for standing straighter once Marco meets Keith’s eyes. Lance stiffens. The smug grin on his oldest brother’s face is evident. “ _Oh,_ who’s this, Lancey Lance?”

 _Lancey Lance?_ Keith asks from behind him. Lance’s jaw clamps shut.

Sylvio grins. “That’s Lance’s boyfriend!”

One would think Sylvio stated that Lance’s new boyfriend was royalty with the way Marco reacts. He sits straight, face brightening.

“Holy crow, finally!” he cheers. He pushes his kids off of his sides to stand, making his way over to the two teenagers. Keith looks intimidated.

Marco reaches out a hand. “Hi, I’m Marco, I’m Lance’s favorite brother.”  
“Luis will not hesitate to kill you for that statement,” Lance pipes up.

Keith smiles hesitantly and takes the larger man’s hand. “I’m Keith Kogane, it’s nice to meet you.”

Lance’s brother small-talks for a couple minutes until he looks over at the clock. He turns back to them. “As much as I want to embarass Lance with childhood stories and photos, I have to prep a flight in an hour, so I gotta go. Alina’s working a forty-eight hour again. Can you watch the kids, Lance?” he asks his younger brother.

“Of course,” Lance waves him off. “They can sleep in Veronica and Rachel’s room.” He’s quickly wrapped in a hug that makes him feel like his insides will spill out.

“Thank you, I gotta go,” he mutters, pulling back. “Nice to meet you, Keith. Guys, be good!” There’s a shout from Sylvio and Nadia on the couch as their dad slips on his shoes in the doorway. He yells out another goodbye before disappearing behind the door.

Lance turns to Keith with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know he’d be here. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll probably just watch movies with them all night.”

The Korean shrugs him off with a lighthearted smile. “It’s fine. Those two are the only kids I like, anyway.” With this, he slides off his shoes to walk into the living room. He greets Sylvio and Nadia, both who promptly spring off the couch to wrap themselves around his fake boyfriend’s legs. Lance catches himself smiling before shaking his head, joining the three as they plop down on the couch.

It’s thirty minutes later that Lance has the realization of how comfortable Nadia and Sylvio are with Keith. Said seventeen year-old is currently having a pillow fight with the oldest child as they argue over whether Lance is prettier than the main hero in the movie, and Nadia throws popcorn to spur them on.

Lance almost wishes they didn’t get so attached. It would’ve been better to leave their families out of this in the first place, but it’s not like it’s totally Keith’s fault for liking his niece and nephew. Just the other night he had dinner with Keith’s family. His older brother Shiro welcomed him into their house with open arms. The dinner went pretty smoothly, mind a small bump when Shiro’s fiance, Adam, asked Lance about his dad.

Keith kicks him under the table the second it comes out of Adam’s mouth. The man jolts.

“I told you not to ask about him—”

“It’s okay,” Lance interrupts, grabbing Keith’s hand under the table. The other stares at Lance, as if he’s trying to say _you don’t have to talk about him_ with only eye contact. Lance turns away to look at Shiro and Adam. “He died in a flight crash. He was a fighter pilot for the Air Force. They blamed the crash on pilot error.”

After dinner Keith approaches Lance immediately. Adam and Shiro are doing dishes in the kitchen, so the two sit down in the living room.

“I’m sorry Adam brought it up,” he apologizes as he sits. Lance notes there’s less than three inches between their legs.

“It’s fine. It’s just,” he hesitates, staring down at a hole in his pants. “Sometimes I’ll be doing something mindless, like washing the dishes or something, and I’ll be thinking about my family and for just a _split second_ I forget there was a time where it wasn’t just my mom and my siblings. And then I feel really, really guilty.”

A hand comes down on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” Lance finds himself leaning into his touch as the other continues. “Shiro and I aren’t biological brothers, but we came out of the same orphanage. My foster parents weren’t all that great, so when Shiro was old enough he adopted me and got me out of there. I know I don’t really have a reason to miss my mom or dad, since they died when I was so young, but sometimes I feel like I didn’t need them in the first place. I feel like shit for thinking that way, but Shiro’s provided for me so well I don’t think it’d be any different with my parents still here.”

By the end of his speech, Keith’s arm has fully wrapped around Lance’s shoulders. The Cuban rests his head against Keith’s neck.

“You’re a good listener. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff.”

Keith pulls his face slightly away from Lance. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “You’re a good listener, too.”

Lance cranes his head up at him. He just smiles. There’s a beat of silence where Lance can feel them gravitating towards each other.

Or at least, until Adam sprints into the room, screaming about the new season of _She-Ra_ being out.

 

* * *

 

 

Another month passes and it’s early December. Lance would’ve never thought him and Keith would still be dating but here they are, a week from the ski trip.

Him and Pidge currently sit under the bleachers he had spent so many afternoons with Ryan and Veronica on, eating Subway sandwiches. “Remind me again why we have to eat these under the bleachers?” Lance asks.

“Um, we can’t have these contraband Subway logos out in the open, _duh._ Don’t want the powers-that-be catching on to my lunchtime truancy vibes,” Pidge quips, popping a black olive into her mouth that had fallen to her lap. The freshman continues talking about how cheap Subway is getting nowadays without compromising the sandwich quality when the sound of people walking up the bleachers echoes above them. Pidge grins, holding a finger to her lips in silence. “I also love sitting here because we can eavesdrop,” she whispers, pointing upwards.

Lance looks up. All he sees are shadows and two pairs of shoes.

“I don’t know, Keith,” his blood freezes when he recognizes Rolo’s voice. “It’s like you don’t have time for me anymore. All you do is hang out with him.”

“Rolo, I’m dating Lance. Hanging out with him is the point. Am I just supposed to wait around for you while you’re off with this college guy?” Keith responds. Lance can’t see his face, but it isn’t hard to imagine a natural frown lining his lips.

Lance shakes his head. “We should get out of here, this sounds private.”

Pidge looks at him like he just escaped from the asylum. “Are you insane? That’s your _boyfriend!_ And they’re talking about _you!_ ”

It’s hard to listen to both conversations at once, but Lance picks up on Rolo complaining about someone not being a good listener.

“It’s ‘cause he’s not at your beck and call like I was,” Keith says bitterly.

“Still are,” he corrects. “You agreed to meet me here, didn’t you?”

“Rolo, you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“He’s not coming on the ski trip, is he? Because that’s our thing.”

Pidge eyes Lance with wide eyes.

Keith scoffs. “Why does it matter? You have a boyfriend. _You_ were the one who ended this thing. It wasn’t even a relationship. If it was, I doubt many people would agree it’d be a healthy one.”

After a couple of minutes of Rolo complaining, he storms off. Keith sighs and leaves too.

Pidge gawks at Lance. “Dude, Rolo is after your _man_.”

Before the last bell, Lance sees Ryan at his locker. He plans on simply walking past him without saying anything until a freshman comes speeding past the corner, knocking all of the senior’s books to the ground. Lance groans inwardly, already walking towards him. _This is so cliche,_ he thinks bitterly.

“Need help?” he asks. Paper has fallen from several of the folders, scattering across the tile floor.

Ryan glances up at him from his kneeling position. “That’d be great, thanks,” he smiles.

Lance kneels down, gathering the stacks of paper across the floor. Luckily, Ryan wasn’t holding that many folders when they fell.

“How are you?” Lance asks. Ryan glances at him with a troubled expression before looking back down towards the floor.

“Alright. You talk to Ronnie lately?”

“Last week. She’s just started her exams.”

Ryan nods, lips pursed. He gathers the rest of the folders into his arms. “How are you and Kogane doing?”

The Cuban scrunches his eyebrows. He meets Ryan’s eyes as he hands back the stacks of paper. “Ryan, I—”

“Lance!”

He turns to see Keith beckoning him from down the hallway. Lance looks back at Ryan. “Sorry. I’ll see you later, okay?” he smiles, pressing the rest of the paper into the other’s arms. Ryan only nods.

Lance stands. His knees pop from being held in the position for so long, but he follows after Keith nonetheless. When he finally catches up, Keith is already walking around the corner.  
  
“What do you think people are gonna say when they hear that my boyfriend is cozying up to Kinkade?” Keith growls, entangling his fingers in Lance’s. If this were any other day, Lance would almost laugh at the obvious jealousy.

But it is today. And Lance doesn’t forget what he heard at lunch.

He stops and moves them to the side of the hallway against the lockers. Their hands hang between them, still interlocked. “What do you think they’ll say when they hear you’re begging to get back with Rolo?” he snaps. Lance regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth at the sigh of Keith’s fallen expression. “I heard you two at lunch.” Letting go of Keith’s hand, the brunet begins walking again.

“So you’re spying on me now?”

“Not intentionally,” Lance mutters, turning into the theatre hallway. At this time of day, it’s practically abandoned.

“Okay, so I talked to Rolo. So what? It’s not like you’re trying hard to make this convincing either, you never even post about us.”

Lance halts, glaring at Keith across the corridor. “Yeah, because I don’t want my family to see!”

“Sylvio and Nadia don’t even have phones! And you can’t tell me honestly that Marco would care.”

“I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about Veronica. And Rachel, and Luis. I never even told my mom about us! At this point I’m pretty sure she just assumes we’re a thing!” Lance explodes. Keith doesn’t look at him, instead staring at the ground on his left. “Look, Keith, I don’t think either of us thought this was going to go on for this long, but Ryan and I are cool, Rolo’s _sufficiently_ jealous. I think we need to call it.”

The Korean whips his head up. His eyebrow is raised as he scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re trying to break up with me before the ski trip. That’s in the contract that _you_ wanted.”

“That’s only if we’re still together,” Lance argues.

“We _are_ still together, Lance. You’re just trying to pull out because you’re scared.”

“What do I have to be scared about?”

Keith makes a gesture saying he doesn’t know. “You tell me, McClain.” When Lance doesn’t answer, the Korean sighs. “C’mon. I’m still taking you home. Do we have the kids today?” he asks, already walking down the hallway towards the exit. Lance hates the fact that he immediately follows and matches Keith’s stride.

“Nah. Just me,” Lance says solemnly.

 

How do you tell your fake boyfriend you can’t go skiing with him because you’re starting to have real feelings?

Lance already knows the answer. He can’t.

When Keith pulls up to his house, he sees Pidge’s bike on the porch. She must already be inside.

Suddenly, an idea pops into Lance’s head. He spins around to look at Keith.

“I’ll go if Pidge goes.”

Later that night, when the two are watching ABC’s 25 Days ‘Til Christmas countdown while studying for midterms tomorrow, Pidge is ready to chuck her phone across the room. She checks her notifications for the fifth time in the past hour. Finally, she sets it down on the coffee table and turns to Lance.

“Why is your boyfriend harassing me to go on the ski trip? You know I don’t do school functions.”

“Because I told him I’d only go if you would, knowing you wouldn’t,” Lance explains, nose-deep in geometric proofs.

Pidge jumps up. “What?! You have to go! Rolo will definitely make a move on Keith if you stay home.”

He shrugs. About an hour ago he got off the couch, favoring the carpet so he could stretch out his limbs. He rolls to his stomach, cupping his jaw in his hand. “Let him,” he grumbles. “I’m sick of having his little snake eyes on me all the time.”

“Dude, no! Rolo always gets what he wants. For once, I want to take that away from him,” Pidge explains, setting her trig book on the cushion next to her. “You get Keith. I’ll make sure of it, by coming on the trip.”

Lance narrows his eyes. “Y’know, I’m really tired of you using me to get back at Rolo.”

“It’s not just that,” Pidge groans. “As gross as this sounds, since you’ve been with Keith, I’ve never seen you so happy.”

Lance contemplates this. Was he really happier by fake-dating Keith? In his opinion, it seems to be more trouble than it’s worth. His fight with the guy earlier today drained the energy out of him.

But then he remembers their movie nights, and spending time together. His stomach feels fuzzy. He feels the corners of his mouth pull up, but immediately scowls the second he notices Pidge grinning at him.

“No,” he states.

Then she does it. Pidge puffs out her lips, leaning forwards off the couch. Her eyebrows draw together, making a line pinched in the middle. Her eyes widen just slightly. Her best friend squirms at her puppy eyes.

“No, Pidge, stop,” Lance orders. “Katherine Holt, I swear to _God_ —I invented that trick! You can’t use it on me!”  
  
She doesn’t stop. Three seconds pass.

“ _Fine!_ Just stop, it’s weird to see so much emotion on your face other than mild annoyance.” Pidge breaks into a grin at that one.

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, midterms have finally finished. It’s early, before seven in the morning. Lance steps onto the bus, red-faced from his mom giving him an entire box of condoms and lube before he got out of the car. The bus is partially full, but there’s still a crowd of students outside. He sees Keith in the fourth row, but Pidge is in the back. He strides past his fake boyfriend without a second thought.

Keith stands up. “Woah, hey hey hey, where are you going?”

Lance nods towards the back. “I’m going to sit with Pidge.”

“Pidge? Come on, she’s sleeping. I saw her snapchat, she was up all night at this EDM concert.”

The older pauses. “Oh. Well, that’s more of a reason to go sit with her. Don’t want her to go swallowing her tongue or anything,” he mumbles, trying to get past Keith. He reaches a hand out to grab Lance’s arm, but he quickly brushes him off before going to sit down. He tries to ignore the fact that Rolo slides in next to Keith the second he leaves.

Lance shakes Pidge awake. “This was a mistake.”

She groans. “Tell me about it. I can’t believe I let you go on a trip that requires getting up before seven.”

Honestly, Lance doesn’t remember much of the trip. He knows that the drive was about four hours, and they went through beautiful scenery and everything to get to the resort, but he fell asleep fifteen minutes into the ride and didn’t wake until Pidge shook him once they arrived.

When they get off the bus, Hunk and Pidge snort at Lance not bringing skis like the rest of them. What? It’s not like he knows _how_ to ski. “What do you expect to do for the entire weekend, then?” Pidge asks.

Lance smirks, pulling his book bag around his shoulder. He unzips it and pulls out three 99 cent romance novels. “I brought these.”

Pidge screeches, hands flying up to her hair and infrustration. “Hunk, help me convince Lance to come ski with us.”

Hunk snorts. “Yeah right. You think I’m going skiing? It’s cold outside. I was born in Kailua. I don’t do cold.”

“What?” Pidge scoffs.

“Well, I have korean face masks,” Lance offers, omitting the fact that Keith was the one who got them for him. Hunk grins, sliding next to Lance.

“I’m on his side now.”

As they take off their face masks later that night, Lance can’t help but tell Hunk. This is partially because the guy seems trustable, and also because he’s nosey as fuck. He knows that it states within the contract to tell no one, and he hasn't! Until now. But it’s not like Keith hasn’t mentioned it to anyone at this point, right?

Lance sighs.

“So you guys have been faking it this entire time?”

“Yes,” he admits guilty. Lance wipes his face down with a wet cloth on the nightstand. “And you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? It’s just...I’m so confused. I just had to let it out.”

“Look, I do not care about the genesis of it all,” Hunk begins. “I just know Keith likes you. I can tell by the way he looks at you.”

Lance snorts. “And how does he exactly look at me, Hunk?”

“Like you’re a rubix cube or something, man. He can’t figure you out, but he’s having fun trying.”

The Cuban frowns. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. “It doesn’t even matter. He’s still hung up on Rolo, after all this time. And I’m just another one of those idiots who fell for Keith Kogane. It’s embarrassing!”

Hunk rolls his eyes. “Okay, let’s look at the facts, shall we?” Lance doesn’t object. “The whole fake relationship was his idea, you came up with the no-kissing rule, you’re trying to break up with him, and you’re the one carb-loading with a straight guy while he’s probably waiting for you in the hot tub. So, I’d say if there’s _anyone_ who stupidly fell for someone who doesn’t like them back, it’s not you.”

“You think he’s waiting for me in the hot tub?”

Hunk clicks his tongue. “Hell yeah.”

 

Lance heads outside. Sure enough, Keith is the only person out there. He’s leaning his head against the edge, looking up at the stars. The tips of his hair are slightly wet where he’s let it grow a bit longer than usual over the past few months. Lance keeps teasing him that it’ll turn into a mullet. The music from inside is muffled, so the only clear sound he can hear is the hot tub jets.

“All by yourself out here?” Lance asks, coat still wrapped around him. The only thing he has under it is some grey sweatpants and boxers. Keith side-eyes him, but doesn’t move his head from facing the stars. “Oh, now you’re ignoring me?”

“ _I’m_ ignoring you?” he finally moves to face Lance. “That’s funny.”

Lance moves around the hot tub to walk up the steps to sit on the edge, arms wrapped tight around himself in the cold.

“Well, sorry I didn’t ski with you. You didn’t even offer to teach me.”

Keith scrunches his eyebrows together, raising his arms out of the water in frustration. “I’m supposed to be sweet on you after you didn’t even sit with me on the bus?”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me, since you got to sit next to who you actually wanted?” Lance asks. He’s desperately hoping Keith contradicts him.

The other groans, setting his elbows on the rim behind him. He cranes his neck back to look at the stars. “I wanted to sit next to you, Lance,” he says without looking. “I even packed the snacks—I even asked Sylvio where to find those pressed sandwiches that you like so much. It was gonna be our lunch. I brought flan, too.”

“The only place you can buy those in the city is in that latino bakery all the way across town,” Lance points out. Keith drops his head to look at him again, with a _duh_ expression on his face.

“I know. So if I went all the way across town to get something you like, that means…” he trails off, keeping steady eye contact with Lance.

“You must really like _pan con bistec_ _?_ ” Lance asks sheepishly, trying to make sure he isn’t misinterpreting _anything_ before he’s about to do what he think he might.

Keith scoffs but has a smile on his face as he splashes water at Lance. “You’re impossible.” He gazes back towards the windows in the house. Lance can vaguely see shapes of people through the foggy windows. “I didn’t have to introduce you to my family, you know. I never even introduced _Rolo_ to Shiro. I mean, I had to meet Sylvio and Nadia because I was driving you guys to school, but there was no reason for me to have you meet Shiro and Adam just to fake this.” He looks back at Lance. His dark eyes are purely focused on him. Lance shivers.

Slowly, he takes off his winter coat. He stands up on the steps, shimmying out of his sweatpants. The wind bites at his tan skin. Keith’s eyes are now drawn to his navy boxers. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Whatcha doin’, McClain?” he jokes. Lance rolls his eyes.

“These are the only pajamas I packed for this trip. Like hell I’m sleeping naked with pranksters running rampant,” is all he replies before stepping into the hot tub slowly. The hot water prickles his skin. By the time his feet touch the floor, he’s already to his belly button. Lance wades towards Keith, not taking his eyes off of him. When he gets closer, he slides himself in between Keith’s legs.

“Hi,” he whispers.  
  
“Hi yourself,” Keith responds, pushing Lance’s bangs off of his forehead with a wet hand. Suddenly, he grabs the back of one of Lance’s thighs, the other on his waist, before pulling him into Keith’s lap to straddle him. His tan chest presses against Keith’s. He can feel air brush his lips from Keith’s breaths. Once they’re settled, Lance doesn’t wait another second before leaning in.

This time, Keith meets him in the middle.

It’s chaste, barely there, but Lance pulls back slightly with a grin enveloping his features. He stares at the younger for a moment.

“What?” Keith whispers.

Somehow, Lance grins a bit wider, resting his forehead against the other’s. “Nothing,” he replies. A second after, their lips press together again. Keith’s hand tightens on his hip. Lance raises his arms, curling his fingers through the ends of Keith’s hair.

Everything is warm. The wind suddenly doesn’t bother Lance all that much anymore, because all he can think about is Keith pressing closer, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin. The water’s warm, Keith is warm, their lips are warm, Keith’s tongue is warm as it swipes across Lance’s mouth—

Lance pulls back abruptly. Keith is still holding tight to him, but he maneuvers himself back to rest on the other’s lower thighs.

“What’s wrong?” Keith pants. He looks like a mess. Lance must’ve been playing with his hair more than he thought, because it’s all tangled and curly where his hands had been. The heat from the water had made his complexion redder in the first place, but now the blush has creeped down to his chest. He stares at Lance with wide, concerned eyes. “Lance?”

“You like me?” he asks, awkwardly placing his hands on his own thighs.

The Korean stares at him like he’s a maniac. “What?”

“I just want to make sure,” he explains. “You like me?”

“Oh my God,” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s waist to pull him closer again. “Yes, you idiot. I like you. And not the fake, bullshit way. So kiss me again.”

Lance nods, convinced as he leans in once again. Keith’s smile is evident against his lips.

It feels like they spend forever in the hot tub, but it’s probably only around thirty minutes. But by the time they leave it Lance’s skin is pruny and gross. He wrinkles his nose at it.

“You’ve made me into an old man.” He raises his fingertips to show Keith. The other only snorts in response, reaching up to entangle the fingers together and drop them at their sides. They’re walking down the second story hallway, towels around their shoulders. In his other arm, Keith holds Lance’s coat and sweatpants. They reach Lance’s room first.

Before he gets to the door, Keith spins him around to kiss him one more time. Lance tilts his jaw upwards to meet him.

“Goodnight, Keith,” he whispers against his lips.

“Goodnight,” is the reply. He squeezes Lance’s arm before letting go.

 

When Lance gets on the bus the next morning, people hoot and clap for him. His face feels warm as he looks around before quickly sitting down next to Keith. “Why are people clapping?” he hisses. Did Keith tell people about what happened last night? It’s not like they did anything scandalous. Much more innocent than what most people were doing, if the next-door neighbors were anything to go by.

“That’s just what people do when couples go on the ski trip together,” he answers simply, entangling their hands between them. He rests his head on Lance’s shoulder without a second thought. “I’m sleeping on you,” he informs the Cuban.

“I’ve noticed,” is all Lance responds with before resting his cheek on Keith’s dark hair.

He ignores the pleasure in his gut when he sees Rolo’s scandalized face as he passes them while looking for a seat. Lance instead makes himself comfortable, letting Keith pull their entwined hands into his lap before falling asleep.

Rolo approaches Lance as the he’s getting his luggage out of the bus compartments. After the long bus ride, they’ve finally arrived back at the school.

“Lance!”

He turns after pulling the army duffle onto his shoulder. He frowns when he meets eyes with Rolo. “What’s up?” he asks warily.

“Nothing! I just think it’s cool that you came on the ski trip. I hope you had fun.” Lance narrows his eyes. Rolo has the look on his face that he’s seen too many times before. He’s up to something.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, I just wanted to say I think it’s really big of you to be so trusting about my friendship with Keith. Most people aren’t chill with their boyfriends sleeping in someone else’s room, but I’m glad you’re totally cool with it.”

Lance frowns. He knows he shouldn’t trust anything that comes out of Rolo’s mouth. The taller is probably baiting him for a reaction. So he keeps calm.

At least, until Rolo readjusts his shirt and Lance spots hickeys along his collarbone. He freezes.

“Anyway, have a good winter break, Lance,” Rolo wishes before walking away towards the parking lot. Lance feels like he’s going to implode. How could Keith _do that_ to him? Didn’t last night mean something? He grips the strap of his duffle bag tightly, biting his lip.

Keith comes up as soon as Rolo joins the larger crowd of students. “What was that all about?” he asks, pointing his thumb back at his ex.

“Did you go to Rolo’s room last night?” Lanec asks immediately. He turns his gaze from Rolo’s back to violet eyes. His eyes feel dry as he blinks them several times.

Keith has the audacity to look shocked. “Yeah, but I—”  
  
“Am I just a joke to you, Keith?” The brunet grimaces when he hears his voice drop towards the end of the question. He’s going to vomit. He knows it.

His boyfriend’s eyes widen. “No no no, you’re not. You just don’t understand the situation,” Keith begins, raising his hands up, but Lance’s thoughts are already going a hundred miles an hour. His swirl of emotions suddenly twists to anger. What kind of sick fuck does this to people?

“I understand completely,” he snaps. Lance holds his chin high, staring the Korean down. “This thing,” he gestures between them vaguely, “is over. We’re done.” His heart twists at Keith’s confused expression. Why is he still playing dumb?

“Wait, Lance, can we just talk about this? Let me drive you home, I’ll explain.”

“I’d rather walk,” he answers bitterly. The brunet turns, but Keith grabs his arm.

“Lance, _please_ —”

“ _Don’t_ —” Lance rips his arm back to his chest. Everything feels like it’s buzzing right in his ears. He drops his gaze to the ground, staring at their feet. “Don’t make me say something I’ll regret.”

He walks away. Keith lets him.

 

Walking into his house is an experience. As soon as he opens the front door, the smell of gingerbread surrounds his nostrils. The entire foyer is covered floor-to-ceiling in tinsel. Lance takes his shoes off at the mat and heads into the living room. The same. A Christmas tree sits in the corner of the room. It’s covered in faerie lights and handmade ornaments. Michael Buble plays from the kitchen.

Rachel comes out of the kitchen doorway at the sound of the door closing. Her face lights up when she sees her brother. “You’re home!” she cheers, running to Lance. She almost knocks her hip into the dining table on the way, but doesn’t let the hiccup slow her momentum as she crashes into the younger.

“Hey!” he grins, forgetting completely about Keith. He grips her tight even though her curly hair is flying into his mouth. He hears steps coming down the stairs. “You and mom do this all yourself?”

Rachel pulls back and smiles. “I had some help,” she nods behind Lance. He turns to see Veronica, with new glasses and longer hair. He gasps.

“Ronnie! You’re home early!” he screeches, throwing himself into the arms of his older sister.

She laughs. “Yeah, I took the first flight home after finishing my exams.”

“I missed you.”

“Of course you did.” Lance laughs into her sweater, keeping tears in his eyes while tightening his hold.

A couple hours later, they’re making Christmas cookies. Marco, Sylvio, and Nadia all showed up thirty minutes earlier, so Veronica’s busy telling stories of London to the entire family. Luis doesn’t come back until the 20th.

“Is Ryan coming over for dinner?” Sylvio asks, interrupting her retelling of getting lost in her own dorm building.

She smiles, but it looks like more of a grimace. “Nah, it’ll be family only tonight, kiddo.”

The ten year-old slumps and turns to Lance, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess you can’t invite Keith.”

“Keith? Who’s that?” Veronica asks. Lance stiffens. She looks like she’s about to interrogate him when the doorbell rings.

The youngest practically jumps out of his seat. “I’ll get it!” he yells, running through the foyer as fast as he can in socks.

He pulls open the door and halts. Keith stands in front of him.

“We need to talk,” he states. Lance would’ve shut the door on him, but he knows the crazy bastard would risk breaking his fingers to keep it open.

Lance looks inside, where he can still hear his family laughing. “Not here,” he mumbles, closing the door and walking down the porch steps. It’s not exactly cold, since they live in California, but the northern chill is obvious. Lance shivers in his shorts and t-shirt.

“Nothing happened between me and Rolo last night,” Keith starts immediately.

The Cuban scrunches his face. He hates himself for wanting to believe him. “What happened is that you went to his room in the first place.”

Keith huffs, pushing his pale hands into his jacket pockets. “Rolo and I were a thing for a long time. Those feelings don’t just vanish, Lance, we had history.”

Lance crosses his arms. “I’m tired of being second best or fake best, Keith,” he admits.

“No no no, you don’t get it.” Keith reaches for his shoulder, but pulls back when the brunet stiffens. He lets it drop to his side. “Last night was—”

“Last night was a mistake,” Lance finishes. “Physical stuff might not be a big deal to you, but to me, it is.”

The younger throws up his arms. “Who says it’s not a big deal to me?” he asks, frustrated.

“Says those _fucking_ hickeys on Rolo’s neck! I’m not an idiot, Keith, I saw them!” Lance snaps. Keith flinches back. He looks upset, but not in the angry way. Surprisingly, he looks sad. “I think you should just go.”

“Can we just go inside and talk?” he whispers.

“He asked you to leave, Kogane,” a familiar voice comes from behind Lance. He whips around to see Ryan. Oh god, he probably heard their entire fight with how loud they were being.

“Ryan, I’m fine. Go back inside.”

Ryan doesn’t show any intent to listen to him. The sadness in Keith’s expression is now mixed with what Lance can only describe as _pissed off_. “Are you serious right now?” he snaps, glancing between Lance and Ryan. The Cuban doesn’t know what to say, only to look at his friend and mouth _go_. “This isn’t about Rolo and I, it’s about you and Ryan,” Keith states in a low tone. He scrunches his eyebrows together. The front door opens, but Lance doesn’t look at it. He can’t explain this to his family right now. “This is the reason you broke up with me? You’re still in love with this _Bon Iver_ wannabe?”

“If Lance broke up with you, pal, it’s because he finally realized he’s too good for you,” Ryan growls, stepping forward.

The front door shuts. “You’re in love with Ryan?” Lance snaps his head to see Veronica and Rachel in the doorway.

“Ronnie, _no,_ ” Lance starts, walking up the porch steps as fast as he can. His eldest sister just shakes her head, upset. She goes inside, slamming the door behind her. Rachel stares at Lance in surprise.

The seventeen year-old stares at the wooden frame for a moment before whipping around. His eyes sting. “Keith, just _fucking_ —just go home!” he cries. How did things go wrong so fast?

Keith glances at Ryan for a moment before turning his gaze back to Lance. He looks conflicted. “God. You were never...you were never second best,” he states, before retreating to his car.

The brunet sighs. He turns to his other former love interest. Jesus, when did his life get so boy crazy?

“I didn’t know she was home yet,” Ryan explains.

“Yeah, she finished her exams early. It was a surprise.” Lance’s voice is empty. “Goodnight, Ryan.” The senior seems to take the cue, because he nods before walking back towards his house.

Rachel states she’ll order a pizza for dinner, but Lance stays out on the porch for a little while longer.

How did this get so fucked up so quickly?

When he finally goes inside, Lance avoids the dining room in favor of his bedroom. Once he’s up the stairs, he rips all of his romance novels off the bookcase. God, they were all fucking _lies_. He pulls a cardboard box from his closet and begins filling it with the books. He knows he’s crying, he knows by the sting of his eyes and the wetness on the cheeks, but he keeps stacking the dumb fucking books in anyways. His nose is running and it’s gross but he doesn’t stop to blow it until the entire box is full. Lance goes back to the closet to get another one.

He knows there’s a couple in his desk, so he pulls open the top drawer to grab them. The contract stares him in the face. Keith’s garbled signature taunts Lance. He rips it in half without a further thought, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. God, this _hurts._ It hurts worse than anything in his life, which is fucking heartwrenching. He barely remembers his dad dying, which is terrible because _this_ hurts more than receiving the KIA letter in the mail.

An hour later, three full boxes are sealed. They sit near his door. Lance lies face-down on the bed. There’s a knock on his door.

“Go away.” His voice is muffled into the comforter.

The person pushes his door open anyway. He looks from the corner of his eye to see Veronica. “I have pizza,” she offers. A clear plate is in her hand.

“I’m not hungry,” Lance evades, rolling his back to her. She still stays. “I know you’re only being nice to me because you either feel bad that I broke up with my boyfriend or mom threatened you.”

“A little bit of both,” Veronica admits. The bed tips as she sits down next to him. He hears her setting the plate down on his desk. “Look, I’m not like, unbelievably mad or anything, I’m just confused. Like sure, I was pissed at first, because Keith made it sound like you were trying to date Ryan—”

“I would never do that to you,” Lance interrupts. He sits up to face her.

“I know. I just don’t know why you kept it from me.”

He ducks his head. “I thought you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you. You’re my baby brother. I thought _you_ hated _me._ ”

“I’d never hate you!”  
  
Veronica throws up her hands. “What was I supposed to think? You wouldn’t even Skype me.”

Lance sighs, running his fingers through his hair. It’s gotten longer. “I couldn’t Skype you because I was lying to _every single person_ in my life, and I knew I couldn’t lie to you.”

His sister sighs, leaning forward to hug her knees to her chest. “I just thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

The younger laughs in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Look at the chaos that happened when you were gone! All of these stupid love letters I wrote when I was thirteen got sent out by accident! The only reason I started talking to Keith was because I hit him with the car!”

Veronica bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re a mess. Come here,” she orders, pulling Lance into a hug. He can still feel her giggling against him. Over his sister’s shoulder, Lance sees Sylvio and Nadia in the doorway.

“How long have you two been there?”

“Not long,” Sylvio answers at the same time Nadia replies “a while.” The two children crawl up onto Lance’s bed, joining the hug. Veronica sighs and pulls away.

“Okay, no more secrets between the McClains, all right? Sylvio, if you’re this hard to deal with in six years, I’ll make sure you’re homeschooled.” The boy freezes at his aunt’s declaration.

“Deal,” the three agree in sync.

Nadia pauses. “Well, Sylvio and I have a secret,” she says, ignoring her brother’s whine of _shush, Nadia!_ “We’re the ones who sent out the letters.”

Lance stares at the two with a blank expression. “I’m going to kill you,” he warns, before launching towards them. Nadia ducks out of his grasp, but Sylvio is too slow. Lance manages to grab a fistful of dark hair before he slithers from his grip, screaming. Veronica’s trying her best to keep their uncle from them, but it doesn’t work until Rachel storms in from the noise and helps her hold their baby brother from committing double homicide.

“You were so lonely, and I could tell Keith liked you but you wouldn't do anything about it!” Sylvio screeches, ducking behind the bookcase. Nadia hides under the desk.

“So you sent _all five_ _?_ ”

The youngest in the room looks like she’s using the chair as a weapon. Her older brother pops his head from behind the bookshelf. “We thought five chances at a boyfriend were better odds!” Sylvio screams in terror when Lance breaks free of his sisters’ hold, running for him. Both children manage to sprint their way into his closet, locking the door behind them. Rachel and Veronica block the door. The shorter wrestles Luis’ baseball bat from Lance’s grasp. He’d picked it up sometime during the scuffle from under his bed.

“Look, their logic was off, _way off,_ but their hearts were in the right place,” Veronica states. Her glasses tilt sideways on her nose.

“Their faces are going to be in the wrong place!” Lance spits.

“Lance, before you murder our brother’s kids, let me ask: if you really didn’t want those letters sent, why did you address them?”

“It’s not like I added a stamp!”  
“Can you just admit that some part of you doesn’t want everything in your life to be a fantasy?” Rachel asks.

Lance slumps. “Maybe,” he answers, looking off to the side.

“So,” Veronica begins. The closet door opens a crack. Two sets of brown eyes peek from it. “If I can forgive you for writing my boyfriend a love letter, do you think you could forgive Nadia and Sylvio for sending them?”

“How did they even know how to send mail? They’re like, six.”

“Eight and a half!” Nadia screeches at the same time Sylvio yells _ten!_

Veronica glares at him, waiting for an answer. Lance snarls at the children. “You two owe me for the rest of your life.”

Sylvio exhales, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh thank God, I was really hoping to make it to sixth grade.”

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily, the ski trip marks the start of winter break, so Lance doesn’t have to deal with seeing Rolo, Ryan, or Keith until January. One night, he looks down at his phone and realizes his lockscreen is still that picture from the night at McDonalds. “I guess I should change this,” he mutters when he notices Rachel looking next to him.

She shrugs. “You could. Or you could talk to him.”

Lance’s ego keeps him from considering it for the moment. Three days after Christmas, his mom takes him to the Corner Cafe. When he asks why she took him there, she smiles.  
  
“You always liked eating here when you were little,” she explains. “I know you’re still upset about Keith.”

Lance picks at the corner of his table mat in front of him. “So you knew?”

“About you two?” Lance nods. “Oh _mijo_ _,_ anyone could tell by the way you looked at each other.”

Lance frowns. “Rachel explained everything?”

His mother hums. “Just because the two of you were faking it doesn’t meet real feelings weren’t there, Lance.”

He smiles sadly. The waitress comes by and they order their food. It’s late, around nine o’clock, so there’s only a couple of people in the diner. Mostly truck drivers, some families. Lance saw a couple getting too handsy near the back when they were seated, too.

“I used to come here with your father, all the time,” his mom’s smile brightens her features. “We came a lot when I was pregnant with Rachel and had midnight cravings. I always wanted milkshakes and vinegar fries, nothing else. Your _abuela_ told me that if I overate something during my pregnancy, the child would despise it when they’re born. I didn’t eat any cuban food for the entire pregnancy.”

Lance chuckles. “Now Rachel’s lactose intolerant and hates potatoes.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I should’ve ate junk food the entire time. At least would’ve enjoyed myself.” She sighs, twisting the golden band still left on her ring finger absentmindedly. “We always used to sit in this spot. He’d announce to the entire restaurant how much he loved me and how we were having a second baby girl. _It’s even now,_ he’d say.” She pauses in thought. “Well, until you came along. You were the surprise,” she giggles. Lance snorts into his Sprite.

The waitress comes by with their plates, setting them down in front of the two. Lance notices his mother ordered a milkshake with a hamburger and fries. She pours the vinegar on them gratuitously. When she finishes, she looks up at her son.

“Lancito, the moral of this story is that if you love someone, you have to tell them, okay? I made sure to do that, all the way up to my last moment with your dad. If you love this boy, he needs to hear it out loud, _vale_ _?_ You men are always much slower at catching on to other’s emotions.”

Lance picks at his food. “Mama, I don’t even think I know what love _is_ yet.”

His mother seems to have expected this answer, because she replies immediately. “You won’t, for a while. Until it sneaks up on you. You’ll only know it a few miles down the road, looking back and realizing when you first felt it. Even if you don’t love Keith right now, you need to tell him he’s important to you.” She stops for a moment, then tacks on, “if you don’t, you’ll lose him.”

When they get back, Lance skips every other step going up the stairs. He speeds to his closet and pulls down his father’s duffle bag. He’d been keeping the notes Keith gave him inside. He always skimmed them, but now he read through each and every one. They weren’t in order. Lance had thrown them in carelessly each time, but he manages to piece them together while reading.

 

_Lance;_

_James is having a party tonight at 8. I’m taking you. Part of the contract. No take-backs._

_Keith._

 

_Lance;_

_I forgot you don’t have my number yet. Here: (xxx)xxx-xxxx_

_Keith._

 

_Lance;_

_Your speech in debate class was kickass._

_Keith._

 

_Lance; I wish I could be as confident as you when talking to Rolo. You’re not afraid of him, you don’t let him steamroll you like everyone else does. Including me._

_Keith._

 

_Lance;_

_Do you want to go to dinner with me and Takashi tonight? Adam might join too._

_Keith._

 

_Lance;_

_I’m taking you to Lotor’s party tonight. I’ll be at your place at 7._

_Keith :)_

 

_Lance;_

_Happy one month! Or, fake one month? I don’t know. It almost feels real to me. We’re such good actors together we’re almost convincing ourselves, haha._

_Keith :)_

 

_Lance;_

_I bought you some pastelitos this afternoon, but you weren’t home. Left this with your mom._ _  
_ _Keith :)_

 

_Lance;_

_I maaaybe looked over your shoulder in AP Lit and saw you got a 96% on the midterm. I love having a smarty pants fake boyfriend._

_Keith :)_

 

_Lance;_

_Ugh i totally bombed that german test. Cheer me up over milkshakes and movie marathon tonight??_

_Keith :)_

 

_Lance;_

_Should I bring flowers to Sylvio’s dance recital? Is that too far?_

_Keith :)_

 

_Lancey Lance;_

_This nickname is fucking ridiculous but I love it. Marco seems cool. He looks a lot like your pictures of your dad._

_Keithy Keith? No_

_Keith :)_

 

_Lancey Lance;_

_You look stunning today. You should keep your hair this long, I like it. More for me to run my fingers through._

_Keith :)_

 

_Lancey Lance;_

_Are Nadia or Sylvio lactose intolerant? I want to buy them ice cream after school since Sylvio just lost his last tooth._

_Keith :)_

 

_Lancey Lance;_

_Is that my shirt you’re wearing? If it is, you can keep it anyway. Blue is your color._

_Ski trip T Minus 2 weeks!!! :)))_

_Keith :)_

 

The notes go on and on, almost one for every weekday they’ve been dating. Lance almost catches himself crying towards the end. He quickly shoves all of the notes back into the duffle bag. Without a second thought, he sprints down the stairs, almost slamming into Luis on the way down.

School _does_ start in a week and a half, but Lance doesn’t want to wait that long. He grabs the keys, yells that he’s going to Keith’s and ignores the hoots and catcalls from upstairs before shutting the front door.

Driving is terrifying, but Lance arrives at Keith’s apartment complex without damaging himself, others, or property. The elevator takes _too damn long,_ so when he gets off he sprints to apartment 313’s door. He rings the doorbell twice and knocks before someone answers.

“Adam!” he greets with a nervous smile as soon as the man opens the door.

“Hey, Lance!” he grins. Good. That’s good. He guesses Keith didn’t tell them yet. “What are you doing here? It’s like, 11 o’clock.”

“I actually needed to talk to Keith really quick.”

Adam looks confused. “Is he not picking up the phone? He’s been in his room all day. All break, actually. Has barely left the building.”

Something twists in Lance’s gut at the information. He feels better knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling like shit about the breakup, but at the same time he feels even shittier for taking pleasure in Keith’s bad mood.

“I just need to say something in person, actually.”

The man narrows his eyes behind his glasses. “Lance McClain, if you’re about to break my future brother-in-law’s heart on a Tuesday night at 11PM, I’ll beat your ass.”

Lance squeaks, holding his hands out in front of him. “No no no! I’m definitely _not_ doing that! The opposite, actually!”

Adam is silent for a moment before humming. He seems pleased with this answer, so he nods. “You can come in. You remember where his room is?”

Even though they went to Lance’s house more often than Keith’s while fake dating, the Cuban nods. Shiro must not be home, because he doesn’t see the older brother while coming in. Muscle memory leads him to Keith’s room, where the door is shut. He knocks lightly.

“I’m not hungry, Adam,” is all that responds. Lance pushes open the door. Keith seems to be cleaning his room, because there’s a trash bag on the floor and he’s currently making the bed.

“Keith?” he asks softly. The other stiffens at his voice. He turns around so fast he stumbles against his nightstand.

“Lance! What—what are you doing here?” he stutters out.

“Hi. I have to tell you something,” the brunet starts, wringing his wrists together. He’s still standing in the doorway. He’s also wearing Keith’s shirt, he realizes. Fuck.

Keith looks like he’s about to jump out of the window to escape. “Okay,” his voice almost cracks, and he grimaces. He stands straight and walks over to Lance by the door.

As he comes closer, Lance notices bruises on Keith’s cheekbone. The pale skin is mottled by yellow and purple patches. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, almost reaching up to touch it. He flinches back at the last moment.

“Um,” the other halts. “I got into a fight.”

The Cuban has a sudden urge to make Keith go put ice on it, but he holds back. “With who? Why?”

Keith glances to his right, avoiding Lance’s eyes. “Rolo,” he answers.

“What?”

“He looked worse.”

“Why did you fight Rolo?”

“Why do you think?” Keith looks to Lance.

Lance’s mouth tastes like sand. Keith’s still waiting for an answer. “I drove here,” he finds himself saying. Okay, not what he intended, but a good enough start.

His ex raises his eyebrows. “Really?” Lance nods. The Korean still looks confused. “Great. That’s, uh...congrats.”

“Thanks.”

A beat of silence.

“Um. Is that what you came here to tell me?”

“I think I’ll fall in love with you, one day,” Lance blurts out. Keith’s eyes widen. His eyebrows disappear under his bangs. “I mean, I’m not in love with you right now, I don’t think, but I could. Eventually, I mean.”

“Oh.”

Oh god, this couldn’t be going any worse.

“Yeah, um, that’s all I really had to say, so I can just leave now—” Lance starts to turn, but is stopped by Keith’s hand around his wrist.

“Me too,” is all he says.

The air feels stolen out of his chest. “What?”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna repeat it, Lance.”

“Oh. Okay,” he exhales. Keith’s face is red, now, but he’s still gripping Lance’s wrist as if he’ll run away.

Keith sighs. He twists Lance’s hand around to entwine their fingers. Lance tightens the grasp. “The reason,” he starts, seeming to choose his words carefully. “The reason I went to Rolo’s room that night was to tell him it was over for good.”

“Really?” Lance whispers. The other nods, looking down at their hands.

“And I fought Rolo because I was pissed after we fought. He admitted he lied to you, and I was so angry because he did it just to get to me, so—” he halts, getting too worked up just thinking about it. Lance squeezes their fingers. “So I punched him. Hard. He got one on me, but some other guys pulled us apart before it could go further.”

The Cuban gapes. “You fought a guy for me.”

Keith nods slowly. “I told him I only wanted to be with you.”

Lance breaks out into a grin, and so does Keith. The younger leans forwards, but Lance stops him with a hand on his chest. “Wait, how do we do this?”

“Do what?”

“We’re dating now, right?”

“I’d sure hope so,” Keith replies snarkily.

“What do you put into a contract for a real relationship?”

Keith actually cackles. Really loud. Lance is worried for a moment that Adam will walk in on them out of fear that his brother in-law’s choking or something.

His boyfriend leans his forehead onto Lance’s shoulder. “There’s no contract for real relationships, Lance. We just trust each other.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

Keith leans back, looking into Lance’s eyes. He’s still grinning. “You gonna break my heart, _Lancey Lance?_ ”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Lance smirks at Keith’s invitation and presses forward to connect their lips. They have to stop halfway through because of smiling too much. Instead, they rest their foreheads together, noses brushing each other.

“Nah, I won’t break your heart,” Lance finally answers.

Keith leans forward to peck the brunet’s lips again. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my last voltron fic. But still let me know if you liked this in the comments! It's the only validation I receive as an author. If you like BTS, stick around. Content to follow.
> 
> twitter: pivtoe


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